


The Man Who Never Was

by klmeri



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Memory Alteration, Trials
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-31
Updated: 2011-08-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 07:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klmeri/pseuds/klmeri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a seemingly benign encounter with a new race of beings, the Enterprise is less one member of its crew; and unfortunately getting him back may be impossible, as the man can only be reclaimed if those who wish for his return can prove his value to them. Except there is a catch: no one remembers who he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

“The choice is yours.”

“How can I trust that what you say is true?”

An unfamiliar hand touches a blue-uniformed chest. “What does your instinct tell you?”

Resignation, and words with no real heat behind them. “Damn you.”

“I have seen your future aboard the starship, _doctor_. It is you and those closest to you who would be damned. Stay, and you save everyone.”

~~~

Chief Engineer Scott greets his superior officer. “Welcome back, Captain. Ship’s ready to leave orbit, on your command.”

Kirk steps down from the transporter pad and nods. “We had positive results in negotiations with the Talrek council. They seem open to the idea of joining the Federation.” His smile is somewhat stilted as he pauses, turns to look at the other officers vacating the transporter pad.

Spock, standing next to Kirk, lifts an eyebrow in question. “Captain?”

Kirk’s eyes skip past his First Officer and to the remaining three members of the landing party, a lieutenant of cultural survey and two men from Security (a precaution but largely unnecessary, as it turned out, for the delegation). He cannot, however, determine what it is that seems not quite right. “Nothing, Spock,” he replies slowly. Then, rolling his tense shoulders and turning in the direction of the exit, the Captain calls out, “Spock and I shall be on the Bridge, Mr. Scott. Prepare for warp.”

~~~

The Enterprise is humming with power as it speeds through the space. The ship’s heading is the nearest starbase in the next quadrant, where the Enterprise will re-stock its supplies and where Kirk has been ordered to discuss the potential endgame of his latest mission on the planet of the Talrek. Starfleet shall, no doubt, want to send another delegation party to smooth out diplomatic relations and secure the race's agreement to join the Federation.

In the captain’s quarters, James T. Kirk leans back in his chair behind his desk and stares at an official report on the computer screen for some minutes. He doesn’t know why, but since the landing party beamed to the Enterprise he has had this niggling thought in the back of his mind. Strangely disturbing it is, yet so faded that he cannot seem to grasp ahold of it.

And why should he be so troubled? Nothing is out of place. None of his crew were threatened or harmed, the Talrek were pleasantly hospitable if slightly offstandish, and as captain of this vessel, Jim ought to be grateful that the mission was a success, that the respect of the Talrek was easily won.

Jim rubs a hand against his forehead, dismayed by the subtle ache at his temples. He should go to Sickbay, ask M’Benga for more of his headache medication. 

Then again, maybe not. While the doctors and nurses on the Enterprise are top of their class and Jim feels lucky to have such an outstanding medical crew, there is no one in particular that sets him at ease. It’s better to stay away from the medical bay, he decides. Sickbay is for business only, and this ache is not a full-blown migraine. He can endure a slight discomfort.

The comm unit built into his desk gives a forewarning beep. “Bridge to Captain Kirk,” comes Spock’s voice through the speaker.

Kirk flips a button. “Kirk here.”

“Sensors show indications of an ion storm ahead, Captain.”

Finally, something other than mundane report-writing. “On my way, Spock. Kirk out.”

Spock, apparently, knows better than to insist that Jim remains resting in his quarters. The Vulcan only says, “Acknowledged.”

Jim tucks away all thoughts of unease and leaves his quarters.

~~~

Nurse Chapel stops outside of the open door of the CMO’s office. Inside, Doctor Geoffrey M’Benga is standing before a bookshelf, his expression bemused as his fingers walk across different publication titles.

“Doctor?” she calls.

Geoff turns to her. “Oh, Chapel. Do you need me?”

She shakes her head and waits within the doorway, hesitant to leave but not wishing to intrude. 

M’Benga, smiling softly, offers her a seat in front of his desk. “Perhaps you need a minute to rest, then?”

Christine sits down, instinct pushing at her to speak with this man. “Geoff,” she begins, initiating a conversation between friends rather than colleagues, “can ask you something, unofficially?”

“Certainly. I am—” Something in the doctor's face as his gaze flicks around the office says he is uncomfortable at present. "—not busy." M’Benga sits in the chair behind the desk gingerly, his smile light but careful. Hand hovering over a discarded pen on the desktop for a brief second, M'Benga picks it up and rolls it between his fingers. 

How can she phrase what she is thinking without Geoff taking offense? She sighs. There is no good way to say it. “Does Sickbay seem different to you, somehow?”

She does not expect the understanding in Geoff’s eyes. “Actually, yes," he says. "Though, I thought it might be a result of my overactive imagination."

She leans forward, relieved but anxious. “Then the entire staff is suffering from overactive imaginations. I don’t know what it is, but I get the feeling that something is... missing. Do you know,” she adds, “when the ensign with the hand injury almost bolted from Nurse Matthews, I anticipated that you were going to _yell_ at him to sit back down.” Well, that’s not entirely the truth. She had braced for the harsh scolding to come, inexplicably amused, but it wasn’t M’Benga’s voice echoing like a half-forgotten memory in her ears. The voice had an accent, like a slow drawl.

Geoff looks startled. “I don’t yell, do I?”

“No,” Chapel replies honestly. “You don’t. Which is why it made no sense—and there are other things too. Odd things.” She glances away. “Mr. Spock came to the bay about an hour ago.”

M’Benga stops nervously tapping his pen against the edge of the desk. “Mr. Spock in Sickbay? _Willingly?_ ”

“He didn’t seem to know why he was there,” she mutters but Geoff hears her. At his inquisitive expression, she relates the story. “On a good day, it’s difficult to get him down here, even for a routine exam, so you can imagine how shocked we were when he strode in and began looking about. I mean it, Geoff—he looked at everything! I almost asked if we were under an impromptu inspection. When I did manage to catch his attention and see if he needed assistance, he simply said ‘No, Nurse Chapel. I thought, perhaps... I am unsure. Please, disregard my presence and proceed with your duties.’ Then he left.”

They stare at each other. Mr. Spock is never uncertain, or at least never admits that he is uncertain.

Geoff slumps in his chair, just the tiniest hint of down-sloped shoulders, but the sight causes Christine’s disquiet to intensify. She thinks she can picture another person in such a position, at that very desk. Someone who isn't M'Benga. But the image never comes.

Is she going crazy? This is Doctor M’Benga’s office. M’Benga is the Chief Medical Officer of the starship Enterprise.

Why, then, does her gut scream _wrong_?

~~~

Jim gives the order for a detour around the ion storm but stays on the Bridge. The officers around him are intent on their duties, the atmosphere subdued. Jim looks to his right, seeing Spock out of the corner of his eye, who is seated and concentrating on sensor output. Then Jim looks to his left at the turbolift. In his mind's eye, he sees the door swish open; in reality it stays firmly closed.

On some strange instinct, his finger seeks the comm button directly linked to Sickbay and presses it. He opens his mouth, caught by surprise, and closes it then hastily retracts his finger. Why had he done that? He manages to say, because he has to say something, “Captain Kirk to Sickbay.”

Kirk feels eyes on his back and ignores the urge to turn around.

After a second or two, a voice responds, “M’Benga here.”

Jim clears his throat. “Uh, Dr. M’Benga.” It would be strange to say Geoffrey, wouldn’t it? 

“Yes, Captain?” prompts the doctor.

He does take a peek over his shoulder after all. Spock is watching him from the science station. “Doctor, I—I’d like to make an appointment to see you. At your convenience, of course.” He grimaces. Did he just volunteer himself for an examination? That’s seven kinds of wrong.

M’Benga sounds as surprised as Kirk feels. “Of course, Sir. Shall I send over a list of tentative dates?”

“Yes, that will be fine. Kirk out.” Dr. M’Benga obviously has no more inclination to talk to Jim than Jim does to converse with him.

Jim sighs and fixes his eyes on the stars drifting by on the Bridge screen. He asks helm, “Arrival time to destination.” Helm responds. Jim rubs his left temple, the pain there a bit sharper than before. He stands, saying, “Spock, you have the conn” ready to retreat to his quarters and away from any bright lights. His eyes are beginning to hurt.

But Spock stands also and asks, “Captain, may I speak with you?”

Jim considers the Vulcan for a moment, drops his hand to his side, and nods. “With me, then. Sulu, mind the store.” 

They step into the Ready Room for privacy. Spock says nothing, only holds out a PADD for Jim to read. He does so cautiously, that sense of unease back and riding him. “What is it, Spock?” Kirk narrows his eyes at the data; it’s a transporter report dating back to... He looks up sharply at his second-in-command.

Spock holds his gaze. “According to the ship’s records, Captain, we transported to the planet of the Talrek with a landing party of six and returned to the Enterprise with a landing party of five.”

That… can’t be possible. They would never leave behind a crewman! _He couldn't_.

Jim must have protested as much because Mr. Spock remarks, “It is indeed possible—and, I suspect, what happened. I have experienced periods of thought disorientation for which I could discern no cause. I am now convinced that my... sense of reality has been altered. I am willing to summarize the discrepancies within my memory banks in an official report, if you require it.”

Jim takes a step back. “Who?" he asks, fighting down a low acidic burning in his gut. His second glance at the data leads him to the line which states the sixth member as _identity unknown_. 

The Vulcan's voice is laced with regret. "I do not know, Jim."

Jim isn’t certain if he is going to lash out or be sick. Now he knows what his instinct has been attempting to tell him for more than a week. 

Something isn’t missing. _Someone_ is.


	2. The McCoy Trial

Leonard McCoy is not quite moping about. He has science and medical equipment to play with (courtesy of the Talrek) and he has become something of the resident physician inside the expansive palace that harbors all twenty Council members and their families. Though Leonard tries to keep busy, he is under the impression that he is wasting his time. The Talrek are rarely ill, except for the occasional strange comatose state some of them go into (he’s been assured that it is a natural occurrence for some “special” Talrekians); and his questions and examinations of the people are treated with indulgence, as if McCoy were a child playing doctor dress-up.

Soon, Leonard knows, he will have to leave this planet and get on with his life. When the Federation sends its next delegation, he plans to do just that.

Never had he imagined that his work on the Enterprise might end this way. Sure, McCoy had told himself that if things got too rough, he could always transfer from space back to a dirt-side posting. But after two years onboard the starship, he was beginning to recognize how he fit in, that he was needed there—not just as a senior officer and the responsibilities that came with that position—but as an integral part of how life functioned on the Enterprise. He had friends, people he considered like family.

That’s why his decision was doubly painful to make. Better to end his career as CMO of the Enterprise now before something awful happened to those he cares about. Doctor’s oath or not, Leonard simply cannot stomach the thought that he may be the cause of another's suffering.

Another Talrekian glides into the room he is currently working in (mostly passing time) to watch the fascinating _doctor_ -guest. No one asks him why he is still on the planet when his companions are gone; yet the way they watch him says that they are aware of the reason. In fact, the way Leonard is watched is rather unnerving, as though there is something in the doctor that has yet to ripen to its full potential. Whatever it is, whatever they are waiting for, Leonard rather hopes he will be off-planet before anything happens.

~~~

Nurse Chapel catches her close friend Lt. Uhura in the mess hall. “I thought we were headed to a starbase.”

Uhura hesitates over a meal selection on the replicator program. The communications officer's quiet answer is “That was the original idea. Something’s changed. We’re en route back to the Talrek.”

They watch as the replicator spits out a tray of salad cubes. Christine procures only a cup of coffee, not sure that she could tolerate anything after such unsettling news. Her gut is telling her that the return to the Talrek is more than a detour from the next six months of approved missions, that it has something to do with the pervading _wrongness_ that has all the medical personnel glancing over their shoulders for a shadow that isn’t there.

She and Uhura settle at the end of a long table. Neither one of them voices concern—or their mutual acknowledgement that whatever is driving the captain back to the Talrek is an elusive feeling which haunts both women as well.

~~~

There is an unexpected buzz in the air. Leonard sets down the PADD on which he has been keeping an account of his observations about the people of this planet. The female Talrekian glances up from her work when he turns to her, asking, “What’s got everyone so jumpy today?”

“Jumpy?” she queries. “Please re-phrase, _doctor_. I do not understand.”

His smile is rueful as he briefly thinks of Spock. “Something is about to happen. What is it?”

Her look becomes sharp, and that alone makes Leonard’s heart thump a little faster in his chest. “A rumor has come to us… an _oduni_ of the Council says we will be visited again.”

Leonard still isn’t quite sure what an _oduni_ is, but he knows that a third of the Council is made up of these people—including the leader of the Council. The leader is always given a deep respect by his peers and, somewhat more subtly, a hint of awe. Having talked with this leader more than once, McCoy senses that the Talrekian is undoubtedly the head honcho of the _oduni_ —and that means he is powerfully skilled at his craft, whatever it may be.

So McCoy focuses on what he can understand, and he is both nervous and chilled. A visit? Who is coming?

Casting his eyes down at his PADD again, he sees nothing. Instead Leonard prays: _For God’s sake, don’t let it be Klingons._ Klingons have a habit of wanting to prevent potential newcomers to the Federation; that is, by scaring the living dickens out of them. How about a nice small vessel, maybe with a pompous diplomat whom Leonard can talk his way around, or an exploration charter that he can barter his way onto? _Just… Just don’t let it be the Enterprise,_ McCoy prays a little harder.

How could he ever face Jim now?

Two days later and of course Leonard’s luck is terrible. Not long after the Talrek begin to converge on one side of the palace—the doctor belatedly realizing that his usual group of curious spectators are missing—and Leonard finds an out-of-the-way pillar to stand behind with a good vantage spot to watch the Council arranging themselves into some kind of ritualistic formation, does a familiar itch across Leonard’s skin and some feet away a subsequent glow which forms into a series of figures make him say, “Damn it, Jim.”

Captain Kirk does not look happy. And the phaser in his hand augments that impression. Thank God, the weapon is not aimed at anyone yet, thinks the doctor. Next to Kirk, Spock is standing at rigid attention. McCoy also counts three red-shirted officers.

The leader of the Talrek steps forward to greet the party. “You have returned. Welcome. Please, come with us to the Hall. There we will discuss your grievances.”

The doctor can see that it is the lack of pretense which curtails Kirk’s initial response. Spock says something to Jim. Leonard watches as the Enterprise party and the Council move away, the Council like a flowing mass and the visitors rather stiffly. The other Talrek, those who are bystanders, do not follow. Leonard skirts the edge of the palace in a roundabout fashion (occasionally pausing to get his bearings) until he comes to a side entrance of the Hall. No one stops him from entering or from hiding in the back; and if someone tried to, Leonard wouldn’t let allow them to succeed.

He blends into the shadows to listen.

~~~

The confrontation is well underway.

“You cannot kidnap a member of my crew!”

“We kidnapped no one,” responds one of the Council, unperturbed. “Such practice is abhorrent to us.”

Kirk reigns in his temper, barely. “Then you must have a good explanation of why the Enterprise left without one of its people—” Then man adds with steely calm, “—and _why_ we cannot remember who that person is.”

“Again, nothing was done that was not agreed upon, Captain Kirk.”

Jim can’t help but wonder what kind of crewman would want to be erased from memory. Was he or she that unhappy? “I agreed to nothing. You will restore everything that you have taken from us: my officer and our memories.” And then he’ll send a detailed report to Starfleet cautioning that the Talrek are more dangerous than they seem.

There is a low murmuring among the Council. “Why?” the leader of the Talrek asks simply.

“Because you had no right, consent or not!” Kirk has to reign in his temper again.

They don't appear to agree. “Why must this man be returned to you, Captain Kirk?”

Jim is almost disgusted. He snaps, “He is a Starfleet officer. His place is on _my ship_ until released from duty.”

The Talrek Council exchange unreadable looks with one another, coming to some silent agreement. Then the leader turns to Kirk and says, “Your reason does not sufficient for what you demand. We will reconvene in two day’s time, upon which you may answer this question: Why is the return of your officer of importance?” The Talrekian rises, looks down upon the captain of the Enterprise, yet his expression closely resembles pity rather than mirroring the belligerence in Kirk’s. “Rooms will be prepared for your stay, Captain Kirk. We offer the same hospitality to your people as was granted upon your first visit. You are welcome here until such time that the matter between us is resolved to both parties’ satisfaction.” 

The rest of the Talrek Council rise also and bow in deference as the leader leaves the open-air platform of the audience hall. Kirk gives a fleeting thought to chasing down the Talkreian but beside him, Spock shakes his head slightly in silence. The Captain unclenches one fist and reluctantly flips open his communicator. 

Scotty answers his call immediately, worried. “Capt’n?”

“I am staying overnight on the planet, Mr. Scott, but I will continue to check in every four hours. Keep the Enterprise in orbit; remain prepared to remove her to a safe distance. Spock will come aboard momentarily.”

“Captain,” interrupts the Vulcan, a hint of startled argument in his voice.

Jim smiles grimly at his disconcerted First Officer. “I need you on that ship more than I need you here, Mr. Spock.” He lowers his tone. “Discover the identity of that crewman and anything else that may help us.”

For a moment, Spock is silent. Then he inclines his head ever so slightly.

Jim returns to the communicator. “Beam him up, Scotty.” He flips it closed.

Spock wants to know, “What is your plan, Jim?”

“At the moment? My officer is on this planet—and I intend to find him.” There is a hard glint in Captain’s Kirk eyes.

Spock's lack of response is answer enough. A transporter beam carries the First Officer away.

~~~

As unhappy as the angry Kirk and the stoic Spock, McCoy charges after the leader of the Talrek at the end of the meeting, yet careful to remain unseen by anyone from the Enterprise.

“Stop! Damn you, I said STOP!”

The leader pauses in a short hallway stark of ornamentation. “Yes, _doctor_?”

“What in blazes do you think you’re doing? We made a deal! You can't just let them _stay!_ ”

The leader tucks his hands into the sleeves of his robe. “Would you rather I gave your captain incentive to harm my people?"

 _Jim wouldn't do that._ McCoy sighs. But if the Enterprise party were banished back to their ship, Jim would only beam down again. This is what Leonard had feared, that whatever the Talrek did to cover up his missing presence wouldn't stick. 

Heart in his throat, he swallows, oddly joyous as much as he is afraid. "I don't want any fightin'," he agrees. “What happens if Kirk refuses to leave?”

Something flickers through the Talrek's silver eyes. “Both your choice and the return of your people thereafter are bound by circumstances following our customs. A rite is enacted which cannot be undone. Captain Kirk may petition us now. We will decide." The leader lapses into a moment of silence before finally answering the question. "If he attempts to use force to retrieve you, I will defend my people.”

Leonard shifts uncomfortably. "There are no weapons here." That was one of the attractions of this place.

"Not every weapon can be seen by the eye. You would not understand it, _doctor_ , but I will attempt to explain. To aid in your choice to leave your starship, I altered the manner in which your people respond to your existence. A mental block, as you think of it. To your people, the name Leonard McCoy is unknown; the person Leonard McCoy is no one. But there is another way, a permanent way. It is more effective but also debilitating."

The Talrekian says all of this so calmly that it does not seem threatening, yet the reality of his words leaves Leonard cold. "I assume 'debilitating' means it would make my friends crazy."

"In time. Scars of the mind are often corrosive. Even an _oduni_ is not immune to them."

The mere thought of someone hurting his friends that way incenses Leonard. He jabs a finger at the Talrekian in his ire. "Is this a _game_ to you because you're so damned powerful? You told me things—things no one else could ever know—and I believed you. You said I had a chance to prevent a terrible future, that all I had to _do_ was let the ship go without me 'n you'd take care of the rest!" He pitches his voice to a tone that has sent ensigns scurrying for cover. "But you didn't tell me there was a possibility that _they'd come back!_ "

The being considers McCoy for a long moment then says softly, "Captain Kirk did not return for Doctor Leonard McCoy; he came because his principles demanded it of him.”

Leonard closes his eyes, already knowing that truth. When he opens his eyes again, the Talkerian leader has closed the distance between them. McCoy boldly holds his ground. 

"Are you ready to listen?"

"I've been listening, and I can't say I like anything you've said so far."

“I will tell you of your true purpose among us, _doctor_. You brought an offer of friendship and brotherhood," he says, "and asked us to become a part of your Federation; yet what we saw among your representation disturbed us.”

Leonard shakes his head in disbelief. “But you gave my captain well-wishing when he departed. If that was a lie, then it was poorly thought through. The Federation'd have ten ships at your backdoor if they caught a whiff of cooperation.” 

The leader frowns, probably working through the doctor's idioms. “We would not have accepted the invitation, despite any number or variety of delegation parties sent to sway us.”

“So why not tell Kirk that from the beginning? It wouldn't be the first time an offer was turned down, and it wouldn't have made any trouble for your world either.”

The Talrek's leader sighs. “You truly do not understand.”

Trying not to feel like a child in the presence of an adult, McCoy breathes agitatedly through his nose. “Explain it to me then.”

“There are those among us who foresee what has not yet occurred. This is the ability of an _oduni_. I and many others looked upon the beings of the Enterprise and saw a lack where there should be none. This lack concerns you.”

McCoy wants to protest the word _lack_ , but the leader stalls him with a raised hand.

“Please, I must finish. The others looked at you, thought of you, and to them you were a man of the healing arts, sometimes a friendly voice, but always less than the extent of what you are."

 _Of course I'm a doctor and a friend!_ Leonard retorts in his head. What else would he be?

"Then I saw your future, _doctor_ , with these people. You will experience much suffering—suffering which results from your very nature, your love of your fellow kind, because you value more than life itself but each unique life that touches your own. Yet I ask this: are those you seek to protect worthy of your suffering?”

“Of course they are!” How could that even be a question?

"You answer in haste because you cannot accept the truth. You are replaceable to the others, _doctor_ —" Leonard flinches at that. "—a man to be forgotten some day... you, who is more like a Talrek than any other aboard your vessel."

Leonard sucks in a breath, finally seeing where this is going. He asks quietly, "Is that what bothers you, then? That if I am not respected as you believe I ought to be, then the Federation won't respect your people?"

"Yes."

"But that's not true. Every race is valued for what it is, and under Federation law we are equal."

"How can it be so, when the officers of your starship do not recognize the value of one of their own?"

"Look, I've had just about enough of your assumptions! You think I'd work with a bunch of idiots who refused to appreciate what I do for them? And even if I agreed with you about my treatment—which I don't—one, you can't judge the actions of an entire conglomeration based on the actions of a handful of individuals and, two, it's none of your business!"

"Your anger is not unexpected."

Leonard's jaw ticks but he remembers how close Jim was to losing his temper in front of the Council and even then the Talrek were oblivious to it—or uncaring. McCoy tries to speak as coolly as possible. "This isn't going to work. Undo it, all of it. I'll go back to the Enterprise, suffering be damned, and we'll tell everyone to leave your people alone."

"No, _doctor_. The rite has begun. As I have said, it cannot be undone."

"There shouldn't be a rite," Leonard accuses the leader. “You said that my presence on the Enterprise would do more harm than good. Well, I'm not on the Enterprise anymore. That should be the end of it. Now you come up with all this... foolishness!" The leader's eyes darken, but Leonard ignores the fact that he might be overstepping the line as a guest; if anything, they have pushed him over it. "I won't let you hurt my friends," he concludes. To think, he had stupidly believed he was doing the right thing. Instead it's as if Leonard has led the very people he wanted to keep safe into a trap. What a fool he is!

With shrewdness the Talrekian watches him. "I see. You are not happy with your choice."

"Doesn't matter. I didn't choose based on my own happiness. And don't change the subject," he adds.

“ _Doctor_ ," replies the leader, studying Leonard, "did you not once cause history itself to fall apart?”

He takes a step back, curling his hand into a fist more out of a sudden trembling hurt than anger. “That’s in the past," Leonard says roughly, "not the future."

“Yes, but it is an example of how carelessness creates chaos.” A pause. “Do not think that I mean to upset you, _doctor_. I only wish to remind you of how easily tragedy can occur—that you can become the source of such tragedy, even as honorable as you are. I have said that I see tragedy for the Enterprise, for you because you are on the Enterprise... but moreso because of your companions and their blindness to all that you are and all that you can do for them. Yes, this is a test but not for you, _doctor_." The leader, having finished all that he needs to say, turns his back to Leonard in dismissal. Long robes softly rustle against the pale marble of the palace floor as the _oduni_ walks away.

It would be pointless to follow him, and Leonard’s mind is swimming with too many thoughts. He needs time to plan—to consider the implications of what he has done and what he can do now. 

In the end, after an hour of nothing but thinking, Leonard McCoy concludes that any path he takes against this 'test' of the Talrek would only add to the damage. He has no idea if the _oduni_ of the Talrek are a true threat to the Enterprise with their unpredictable powers of the mind, and he has no reason to trust them anymore. Regardless, Leonard _does_ owe a debt to his old starship. He placed over 400 people in a terrible position, and it is his responsibility to see them free of it.

Perhaps he can help them pass the test, have the 'block' in their minds removed... And, well, whether or not the situation wraps up successfully, Leonard is certain of one thing: when it's all over, he will send in his resignation from Starfleet, because the one mistake he cannot correct is himself. He made the choice that led to this disaster, as he has made past choices with terrible consequences: his clouded judgement over Nancy which wasn't Nancy at all but a creature whom he almost allowed to kill his captain; the entire hypospray of the deadly cordrazine he should have known better than to carry around in unstable conditions; the full spectrum light test that could have blinded Spock permanently. Leonard McCoy is a man responsible for suffering, as the Talrek have so heartlessly reminded him, and it’s about time the doctor paid the price for his actions.


	3. A Study in McCoy

Silence envelopes the three officers in the conference room. The CMO's expression is unreadable, the Chief Engineer is invoking a few selective curses, and the First Officer sits tall and imposing in his seat opposite of the two men. This is a meeting of the senior officers of the Enterprise, minus Kirk, in which Mr. Spock has just debriefed them on the situation with the Talrek.

After a moment, Mr. Scott leans back in his chair and asks, "What do you need us to do?" M'Benga nods.

"The next petition has little chance of success if the Captain's knowledge of the missing officer is not complete. I suggest that we work to this end, gentlemen, to procure what facts we can to aid us in breaking through the deception of the Talrek."

Mr. Scott shakes his head, looking grim. "Ye've got our help, Mr. Spock, but I dinnae think it'll be enough. I'm not sure I'd have known meself if a man was missin', save for the funny feeling I've had these past few weeks."

Dr. M'Benga adds, "I concur. Whatever the Talrek have done to us seems to be effective. If the damage to the mind is not of a physical nature, I doubt I can provide much insight from a medical standpoint, Sir."

"Understood, Doctor. Yet it is imperative that we determine what we can about the officer in question. In this regard, each department should come under review for any... administrative inconsistencies, as one less fulfilled duty, however menial, is not insignificant to the functionality of this ship, nor would it go unnoticed. Once we ascertain the officer's assignment, we can narrow our investigation of his identity."

The engineer wants to know, "Isn't his name the first thing we ought to discover?"

"I fear, Mr. Scott," says the Vulcan gravely, "that information as simple as a name is beyond us now. It is logical that the Talrek would seek to eliminate the most distinguishable aspect of any being—its given name—and would do so quite thoroughly. We will focus on that which gives rise to a fallacy in memory or in record, and piece together what background we can from such instances."

"Aye," says the engineer. "Maybe this explains why I've got an opened bottle of bourbon in my office." Mr. Scott adds hastily, to prevent Spock from citing a regulation about the consumption of inhibiting substances, "I don't drink bourbon! Not to me taste, I like it a wee bit harder." The CMO sighs at this confession. "But it's there all the same, and so I ken we must have a friendly stomach hereabouts that likes it. Except I cannae think of who it might be."

"Perhaps it is not a coincidence, Mr. Scott," Spock concedes but pursues the subject no more.

M'Benga sighs again. "Mr. Spock, I think I know a good place to begin the search." He rises from his chair. "Do you have a moment to come to Sickbay?"

Spock nods. "Mr. Scott?" he questions, without voicing more than the man's name.

"I'll keep to the Bridge until ye return, if that's all right," remarks the man.

The Vulcan agrees. The meeting is concluded and the First Officer follows the CMO to the medical bay.

~~~

“What do you make of this?”

Spock joins M’Benga in front of the bookshelf in the CMO's office. He looks at the series of printed publications—rare in itself, which also gives him a moment’s pause—and lifts an eyebrow. “Fascinating.”

M’Benga has an amused look in his eyes. “Not the term I’d use, Mr. Spock, but it works. Why do you suppose they all say the author is anonymous? I have yet to see a short article in a medical journal with an unaccredited author—so an entire paper?”

“Yes, the occurrence is unusual, Dr. M’Benga. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.” He begins to turn away when the doctor hesitantly asks him to wait. “Yes?” the First Officer inquiries politely.

M’Benga seems to need a few seconds to gather his thoughts (or his courage) and Spock is nothing if not patient. At last the doctor sighs and says, “This may sound strange to you, Mr. Spock, but I—I know that I am Chief Medical Officer… but I’m not. At least,” he adds at Spock’s sudden, sharp attention on his person, “I don’t believe that I have always been the senior medical officer on this vessel.”

“What gives you cause to say this, Doctor?”

“My memories on the Enterprise only go back as far as… thirteen months, maybe? How can I have been _here_ for over two years when I remember being elsewhere during part of that period?” M’Benga returns Spock’s serious expression. “Don’t misunderstand me, Sir. It is an honor to serve aboard this ship and an even greater honor to be its CMO but…”

“But you do not feel a familiarity with your current position,” finishes the Vulcan.

M’Benga nods in relief. “Yes. That’s it. I know I can do this job, I know I would _want_ this job, yet I can’t shake the feeling that I am taking credit for another man’s work.”

“Thank you,” says the First Officer, “for informing me of this, Dr. M’Benga. Your words are helpful.”

“I hope so, Sir.”

Spock pivots on the ball of his foot and exits the CMO’s office without a backwards glance. He spends the rest of beta shift on his personal computer examining the starship’s log entries since the start of the five-year mission. He collects enough evidence after several hours of diligent work that he is satisfied he has uncovered a crucial piece to the puzzle of the missing crewman.

~~~

Leonard pinches the bridge of his nose and sits up from his sprawl on the guest bed in the room he has occupied since the initial landing party beamed down to the planet of the Talrek. The candle by his bedside has burned down to the base of its holder. Tired but unable to sleep any longer, McCoy pulls on a robe to keep his skin warm from the bite of cold to the air and pads barefoot to the small balcony attached his room. The courtyard below, in the darkest hour of the night, is empty. The triplet moons glow faintly along the eastern skyline.

Leonard leans his weight against the low railing and drops his head forward with another heavy sigh. He isn’t surprised that sleep seems elusive. Every time he closes his eyes he sees the anger lining his captain’s face. It’s only a matter of time, Leonard knows, until that anger finds him. Jim is tenacious, a good quality for a captain but a terrible quality for the party on the receiving end of that tenacity. Jim won’t be satisfied until a complete search of the palace grounds reveals no trace of his quarry; even then, Jim won’t accept that and will continue to doggedly look for the missing person he came back to retrieve. At some point, McCoy will have to confront Kirk. Leonard can only imagine how wonderfully that scene is going to play out.

_“Sorry, Jim, I won’t beam back to the ship with you.”_

It’s a good thing Spock is on the Enterprise; Leonard is not fast enough to evade a nerve pinch. He’d wake up a million light years away from the Talrek on a ship of officers who are without a clue as to who Leonard McCoy is. Wouldn’t that be a bucket full of fun?

What a mess this is.

Fighting valiantly against the moroseness that threatens to consume him, the doctor abandons the railing for a nearby chair. He watches the skyline until the moons are echoes of themselves and morning light begins to warm the stones of the palace beneath his feet.

~~~

James T. Kirk rubs his right temple. The migraine is with him always now, sometimes a light ache he can ignore and sometimes a horrid throbbing pain behind his eyes. It shouldn’t be this persistent despite medication, yet Jim wouldn’t be surprised if it were a complication of whatever the Talrek have done to his mind or simply his frustration manifesting in physical form.

Nevertheless, a migraine is not as important as the task at hand. He has been on this planet for two days, questioning the Talrek to no avail. His "petition" is scheduled for tomorrow morning.

What can Kirk say that hasn’t already been said?

They refuse to heed his warnings; they don’t listen to his demands. Jim is at the very limit of his patience, even the particular kind of patience he stores for diplomatic parley with a race that sets his teeth on edge. The Talrek want something specific from him, and Jim has no idea what it is.

_Why is the return of your officer of importance?_

It’s an unfair question because the answer they want to hear cannot be given without the knowledge they took from his entire crew. And how many times must Jim recriminate himself for not being to answer it?

His communicator gives a token beep and Jim forgets about his headache. "Kirk here," he answers.

"This is First Officer Spock, Captain." 

Jim has a flash of amusement. As if he would not recognize that voice! Alas, protocol has to be followed. 

Spock wants to know, "Did you receive the equipment we transported to you?"

Jim spies the small trunk in the corner of his room. "Yes. Hold on." He enters a voice command. The trunk unseals when the security encryption confirms his voice pattern. Inside are items such as uniforms, meal replacements, another phaser and communicator; on the very top lies a PADD. "What am I looking for?" he asks.

"I have uploaded the latest version of my report."

Kirk boots the PADD. "Summarize, Mr. Spock," he says as he brings up the correct data-bank and scrolls through the report. 

"The unknown officer is from medical personnel, Captain. While many departments feel a sense of perplexity, Medical appears to be the most disturbed. I confirmed this after a meeting with Dr. M'Benga by questioning several of the staff."

Jim's eyes are caught by a list of cited reports. "Spock..." he begins.

Spock is ahead of him. "One of my searches for evidence consisted of away missions which included the presence of an officer from Medical or a Medical team. I listed those missions whose reports were, for a lack of a better term, incomplete."

"Incomplete? Explain." They don't send incomplete reports to Command.

"By incomplete, I refer to the event that any medical personnel is not identified by name."

"That's impossible, Spock," Jim argues, though he is already pulling up the first file, the report written for the planet M-113. He shudders inwardly at the memory of the creature's suckered appendages against his face, feeding on the sodium in his body. Jim doesn't get past the first page of the report. He reads aloud, "Kirk, Darnell... and the CMO?" He backtracks and pulls up another file. Just CMO, again. "CMO _who_?"

"Correct, Captain. Each officer is specified by name and rank; yet should you read further, you would find each mention of the Chief Medical Officer neglects to specify his name."

"Which would prompt an automatic rejection of the report by Command," mutters the Captain. _And a reprimand, no doubt._ He frowns at the list. Why isn't M'Benga's name there? Then the answer sinks in, and Jim starts at the possibility. "Spock," he says sharply, "are you telling me the missing crewman is my _senior medical officer_?"

"That is the logical conclusion, Jim. The corrupted mission reports are those missions which occurred during the first fifteen months of our voyage. I have spoken with Dr. M'Benga. His recollection aboard the Enterprise does not span that early period, but rather begins in the fifteenth month in which the Enterprise accepted a transfer for a surgeon under the title of Assistant Chief Medical Officer." 

Jim sits back in his chair, floored. His silence prompts a "Captain?" from the communicator. "And the rest of the report, Mr. Spock?"

"Material which supports the conclusion." Spock pauses. "Jim, also enclosed you will find two files. Please review them carefully. I regret that I have no more time to discuss these results. I am expected on the Bridge in three point six minutes."

"Understood, Mr. Spock. And rest before coming down here tomorrow, won't you? I need you in full form."

Spock does not question his use of idiom. "Affirmative, Captain. Enterprise out."

Jim flips the communicator closed and turns back to the PADD. He opens the first attached file. A picture loads. His breath catches. 

Kirk's first thought is that he does not recognize these two people—not the man and not the young girl. The girl with wheat-colored hair is grinning at the camera and the dark-haired man (her father?) is watching her instead with a soft adoration in the crinkling at the corners of his eyes and in the quirk of his mouth. His features are not striking, except for a vivid blue eye-color, and the lines of his face speak simultaneously of maturity, humor, and weariness earned from hardship. 

(Some days, Jim sees the same type of face staring back him in a mirror. Being a captain is changing him in ways he never expected. He could feel a kinship with a person like this.)

With a gentle tap on the screen to enlarge the photograph, Jim studies at its details. _Someone's personal memento,_ he thinks. The edges of the scanned photograph are faded, worn from too much handling. But where did Spock find this? 

Jim looks at the man for a second longer. Is this his missing officer? A elusive _something_ whispers to his subconscious, says a name that is on the tip of his tongue. It fades the more he tries to grab ahold of it.

The second file is audio only. Kirk listens it to while drumming a rhythm on the arm of his chair with his fingers, captivated by the voice that comes through the PADD speakers.

 _Medical Log, Chief Medical Officer of the Enterprise, ..._

Here the recording fizzles, or maybe it's Jim's brain that fizzles and doesn't allow him to hear the name.

 _...results are coming back positive on the first round of victims infected by the parasites. We still aren't certain if we are dealing with one giant organism, where each cell is larger than the span of a man's hand—which would be a profound discovery in its own way... if it weren't killing the innocent colonists of Deneva. We were lucky to find a way to stop it, damned lucky! I've never felt so close to losing hope since we shipped out and if it weren't for Spock—_ Mister _Spock—_

The man breaks off, not from the sheer ache of tiredness belying his words but from an emotion too great to give voice to. Jim slowly draws in a breath. 

After pausing for several seconds, the man starts again, subdued: _I was a fool and I admit that freely. The price for my foolishness is the career of the best First Officer in the 'Fleet. For that, I'll never forgive myself._

Jim shuts down the file with a quick stab of his finger, too encumbered by his own memories to listen to the rest. Wrestling aside his personal pain, he tries to focus on a single thought: who is this mysterious officer with the molasses drawl of the old Terran South? Is he that man in the picture?

Jim feels no closer to an answer now than he did before. He is looking for his ship's Senior Medical Officer but is that enough to free them all from the Talrek's trap? 

Somehow, Jim knows instinctively, it isn't.

~~~

The pounding in his temples intensifies the moment Jim steps foot into the grand Hall used by the Council of the Talrek. Next to him, Spock is a steady, silent presence.

"Welcome," greets the leader of the Council, hands raised as a symbol of Talrekian friendship.

Jim isn't feeling friendly, no moreso than he did at his first meeting with this indifferent group of beings, but he nods once in return. "We have come to petition the Talrek on behalf of the Enterprise for the return of its officer." There, maybe that's formal enough.

As one, the Council asks, "Why is the return of your officer of importance?"

For a split second, Jim fancies that the pain in his head is not pain at all but the intrusion of an unwanted presence. No, no time for that. He pulls back his shoulders and gets to the point. "The man is the Chief Medical Officer of the starship Enterprise. His work is invaluable; he oversees the well-being of my crew, and he lends his expertise to the success of our expeditions when needed."

The Talrekians shift in their seats and exchange looks with one another. Oddly enough, the leader looks at none of his colleagues and replies for the Council. "Is it not true that you employ a man who may undertake the position of Chief Medical Officer, should an event befall the officer and prevent the performance of his duties?"

"That is correct," Captain Kirk admits. Then he adds, "It is also correct that the Assistant Chief Medical Officer is not commissioned to maintain the responsibility of a Chief Medical Officer for an extended period of time, unless approved by a chain of command which exceeds my authority as a captain."

"Yet you do not claim this... assistant is incapable?"

Kirk grinds his back teeth in frustration. 

Spock, undoubtedly sensing that Kirk's temper is already far too short, answers for him. "That fact is irrelevant. The doctor who performs the duties of a chief medical officer is carefully selected by his experience, credentials, and aptitude to adjust to the demands of a senior position. Only by Starfleet's code of conduct can he be deemed unworthy of the title of Chief Medical Officer. By keeping an officer from the Enterprise, you interfere where you should not; your interference is, therefore, criminal."

"The address is made to Captain Kirk and must be answered by Captain Kirk. Your speech gives no sway to the petition, First Officer Spock."

Jim says, tone hard, "Then should I repeat his words?"

The leader only replies dismissively, "If you must."

"Enough of your games! Is this how a respectable _oduni_ behaves?" 

Startled, the leader pins his silver eyes on Kirk. Kirk blocks out sounds of protest from the other Talrekians. Hm, it seems the _oduni_ forgot to erase that particular detail from Jim's last visit.

Kirk demands, broking no argument, "Where is my officer?"

The leader looks away to the right side of the expansive hall and so Kirk steals a glance in that direction but sees nothing except tall pillars and empty space. At last the Talrekian resumes his study of Captain Kirk and First Officer Spock. Kirk gets only a tingling of _red alert_ along the back of his neck at the leader's blank expression in warning before his headache increases tenfold. Jim doubles over instantly, almost incoherent with pain.

The leader is saying, "This one answer I will grant you, Captain Kirk." Intermingled is Spock's alarmed " _Captain!_ ", which seems to spiral farther and farther away, and Jim spares a half-second's thought that someone is grabbing him as his knees buckle. Then he blacks out.

~~~

"Jim!"

Spock turns, arrested by the cry of his captain's first name. A man bolts between two pillars separating the promenade from the main area of the Hall. The Vulcan's muscles tense on instinct, and Spock shifts the crumpled Kirk against his side as the stranger aims a headlong sprint at the pair of Starfleet officers. Then the man drops to his knees in front of them, Spock sees the face from the framed photograph found in the back of a drawer in the CMO's desk, and makes a snap decision. "Doctor?"

"Spock," says the missing officer, "let me see him. Please." One of the man's hands—the one with a ring on its smallest finger ( _strange_ , thinks Spock)—fishes out a Medical-issued tricorder from a pocket. The device begins _whirring_ once activated.

Spock says nothing as the man waves the tricorder around Jim's upper body and then his head, centering on a temple. Kirk groans, and the Vulcan immediately refocuses his attention. "Captain?"

The doctor soothes as Kirk tries to blink open his eyes, "Take it slow, Jim—that's right. Where's it hurtin' the worst?"

"Head," mumbles Jim.

The dark-haired man, complete with the accent from the medical logs, frowns at the tricorder and angles it at the captain's other temple. "That can't be right" is the surprised mutter.

Jim is fully conscious now. He pulls away from Spock at the instant Spock lets go of him. " _You_ ," Captain Kirk says, renewed power returning to his voice.

The man freezes, flicking blue eyes first to Jim then to Spock and back. "Well... _damn_." Then quickly, "Look, no questions right now. Jim—I mean, Captain, can you stand?"

Spock is pleased to see that Kirk's logic wins out over impulse. The Vulcan keeps a light touch for assistance under the human's arm as Jim rises to his feet. The doctor automatically seeks to put distance between them but Jim snaps out "No!" and grimaces in obvious pain.

The First Officer suspects it might be Jim's grimace and not his shout that prompts to doctor to come back. Rather than addressing Jim or Spock, however, the man turns on the Council of the Talrek who had been silently observing the captain's collapse and aftermath. "What did you do to him?" the man demands with an unexpected fire.

"Is Captain Kirk ill?" inquires the leader in a mild tone.

"According to my instrument he isn't but a man doesn't faint from nothing! So I'm askin' _you_ : what did you do to him?"

A dangerous silence settles in the chamber. The leader of the Council turns to look at the other Talrekians. 

"Hey! I said _what did you do to him!_ " the doctor yells for the third time.

Spock turns to Kirk, who gives him a short look and gestures at the incensed officer. Needing no words to interpret his captain's orders, Spock places his hands behind his back and repositions himself slightly behind and to the right of the doctor. Kirk, on the other hand, steps into the man's peripheral vision.

"Stand down," Captain Kirk says to the man. Next, directly to the Council, "I have my officer. Since his safety takes precedence, he will return to the Enterprise with us." After a deep breath—the return of Kirk's complexion is a positive sign, Spock decides—Jim emphasizes, " _If_ I contact you again, it will be to discuss the terms for the restoration of our memories." The warning need not be spoken to be understood.

"Captain..." interjects the doctor.

"Lieutenant," responds Kirk automatically, a challenging gleam in his eyes.

With a wry smile, the man corrects, "Lieutenant-Commander. Or Doctor, if you prefer, _Sir_." 

Challenge accepted. The byplay of humans is fascinating.

Jim says nothing, only appearing deceptively patient. The doctor finishes, "I'm not going back to the ship."

Spock waits to see how his captain responds. Kirk says easily, "You are going back to the ship. That's an order."

"Well, I asked a question and I want an answer," rejoins the dark-haired man. "You think going to the ship will solve everything?" Those blue eyes stay fixed on Kirk's face. "You're having a pretty bad migraine right now, aren't you, Jim?"

Spock realizes that it is natural for this doctor to call Captain Kirk by an honorary nickname. If Kirk has also come to that conclusion, he gives no indication of it.

The doctor continues on, determined: "Whatever hocus-pocus the Talrek have used on you is clearly effecting your health. I doubt I could fix you up there," here the man points upward, "better than I could fix you down here, especially if I don't have a Talrekian to fix you with."

"We are not staying," Kirk says with finality.

The doctor's eyes suddenly skip past Kirk to the spot where Spock had been, they widen, and he spins around to stare at Spock's new (advantageous) position. "Keep your Vulcan Death Grip to yourself," he warns the First Officer.

Spock lifts an eyebrow, aware of only one incident pertaining to that reference (a recent incident, in fact), and remarks with interest, "I am not in the habit of using it, Doctor."

There is a rustle of fabric as the leader comes to his feet in an abrupt movement. "You are not free to leave. The petition must continue until its conclusion."

Spock opens his communicator. "Spock to Enterprise. Enterprise, come in." Static hisses back at him. He tries another frequency. 

The doctor remarks dourly, "Why am I not surprised?"

"This session is at an end. We will reconvene tomorrow. Captain Kirk has yet to answer the question." The leader says again, "You may not leave."

Jim is about to reply—or rage at the Talrekian, which Spock believes is equally likely—when the doctor interjects heatedly, "Why should we answer your question when you won't answer ours?"

The leader pauses in his descent from the platform, considering the man for a long moment. "Nothing was done to your captain which cannot be undone, _doctor_." He looks pointedly in Kirk's direction, who involuntarily lifts a hand to his head, face lined in pained, and staggers a step back.

The doctor gasps in realization, pale. "Stop! For God's sake, stop it!"

The leader meets the man's shocked gaze. "This is merely another portion of the test." Then the Talrekian's silver eyes move past the doctor and he tells Spock instead, "He comes to one of you unerringly when you are in pain. Interesting, First Officer Spock, is it not?" 

The leader leaves, then, and the remainder of the Council files out of the Hall in his wake.


	4. For the Sake of McCoy

Kirk eyes the man standing opposite him. “Repeat what you said.” Observing from the side, Spock murmurs, “Fascinating.”

The doctor looks between Kirk and Spock as he rocks back on his heels and drawls again, bemused, “I’m …”

Jim winces and puts a hand to his ear, and Spock—alarmingly—almost looks pained. 

“What’s the matter?” The doctor reaches for his medical tricorder and waves it in their direction.

“I can’t understand your name,” Jim announces.

The brandishing of the tricorder ceases. “But I just said it!”

“You said ‘I am…’ and then I heard a _fizzle-whoosh-pop_. No name,” Jim clarifies to the astonished-looking man.

Spock blinks. “That… is an accurate description of the noise, Captain.”

Jim isn’t as amused as he would be under other circumstances. He pivots and paces away, only to rant at the closed door of his guest quarters, “How can they expect us to make progress when they block us at every turn!” Frustrated, Kirk rounds on the doctor to demand, “Are you the Chief Medical Officer of the Enterprise?”

“I was."

Kirk ignores the use of the past tense. He narrows his eyes. “And why aren’t you on my ship?”

A tense silence builds for a span of several seconds. Then the man breaks it with a stiff reply. “You might want to reconsider your tone, Captain. If you’re looking for a fight, I won’t oblige you.”

Jim is somewhat taken aback.

Spock quickly steps in. “The question is relevant, Doctor, if we are to help you.”

The dark-haired, blue-eyed man crosses his arms, mouth pursed in irritation. “It’s easy to take sides when you always pick the same one, isn’t it, Mr. Spock?”

The Vulcan tilts his head in study of the human. Obviously this is not response the man was attempting to goad from the First Officer, and Kirk watches him roll his eyes. 

“At this rate, we’re going to end up talking in circles or punchin’ each other.” The doctor gestures to an arrangement of chairs in a corner of the room. “My bones are older than yours, Captain. Let’s sit down.” Without waiting for either Jim or Spock, he strides away and drops unceremoniously into a vacant chair.

Partly surprised that this man doesn’t seem nervous in Kirk’s presence and partly curious, Jim takes a seat without a word. Spock, however, remains on his feet and flanks the captain’s chair. Those blue eyes are twinkling, Jim thinks, and somehow he knows that the person is more amused than insulted by Spock’s choice to stand. 

Jim flexes his hands on the armrests of his chair. “Explain,” he states, still certain that this situation calls for formality instead of the friendly chat which the doctor’s relaxed pose says it could be. He notices immediately how the man is absently twisting the ring on his finger. So, the doctor isn’t entirely at ease after all. Kirk adds, “I won’t interrupt until you are done.”

“Making promises you can’t keep, Jim?” asks the man, smiling as he says this to let Jim know that it’s a bit of teasing and not an accusation. Then the mysterious Chief Medical Officer straightens from his apparent habitual slouch and places his hands on his knees. He begins: “You’ve already deduced that I was part of the original away team—why else would you be here if you hadn’t figured that out? I’ll address this question to Spock, Captain, since you’ve promised to hold your tongue: how did you know?”

Spock replies, “The Talrek were not entirely successful in removing you from our minds, Doctor. After careful thought on this matter, I can only conclude that you, as I believe the phrase goes, left behind a lasting impression, one which could not be erased.”

“Complimenting a human whose name you can’t even process, Spock? You never cease to amaze me.” The doctor gives up his sarcastic humor for a sigh. “So basically somebody did some digging on gut instinct. Hmph, can’t say I’m surprised. We Starfleet officers don’t take well to mind tricks, do we?” His small smile is full of irony (though Jim cannot comprehend the reason behind the irony). “I know you’re anxious, Sir, so I’ll get to my excuse ‘n you can decide on a proper punishment.”

Jim twitches a hand at the man’s flippancy but he has enough control to keep quiet.

The doctor glances away. “The Talrek told me some cockamamie story and I believed it.” Regret is etched into his face when he turns back to Jim. “There’s nothing I can tell you that will make up for my actions, not even when I say that I thought I was doing the right thing by staying behind. For that, I’m sorry.”

An echo surfaces: _For that, I’ll never forgive myself._ Jim frowns.

“It is far easier to make an error while in haste of doing good than in the careful planning of ill intent,” Mr. Spock remarks from over Kirk's shoulder.

The man thanks Spock softly, surprised by the unwarranted understanding from the Vulcan. Then he catches Jim’s eyes again. “I didn’t think beyond the decision to stay, and I do not know precisely how the Talrek made my absence go unnoticed, but I can tell you it’s the _oduni_ who did it. You’ve got to watch out for him, Jim. I—I think he’s got the same mentality that Dr. Adams had. He’ll hurt you because he thinks it’s the best thing for you, and it won’t bother him one whit to do it.”

Jim can’t help but say, “The neutralizer on the Tantalus colony? But how could you—?” 

He thinks about that time, at first fighting away the horrible sense of emptiness that still lurks at the edges of his dreams. There is a memory, a voice saying _I'm required to enter any reasonable doubts into my medical log. That requires you to answer in your log_. Then, as if the memory is reluctant to complete itself, a lingering _Sorry, Jim._

“The Chief Medical Officer… on the Bridge,” he says slowly, “that was you?”

The doctor nods.

Jim looks at the man, bothered by a recollection of feelings associated with the memory. Disbelief, a burst of annoyance, but later—much later, as he laid awake on his bed in the aftermath of his torture and the bittersweet ruin of Dr. Adams—gratitude. Overwhelming gratitude to the CMO for pushing him to investigate, because Jim wouldn’t wish so inhumane an end on his worst enemy.

An idea suddenly takes root. “Spock,” Jim says, craning his head around to peer at his First Officer, “the report on my PADD… if we cross-reference our memories with each away mission on the list you provided and have Doctor—the doctor help us fill in the gaps, we may figure out a way to beat the Talrek at their own game.” 

Spock approves of this idea. Jim looks back at the man seated across from him. “Will you help us?”

“Would you consider leaving me here?” he is asked instantly. “You’ve let an officer go before. It wouldn’t be unprecedented, and no one would think the worst of you, Sir.”

“Lt. Bailey wanted to remain with Balok, and it was an opportunity for both to learn,” Kirk says, quick to catch on to whom—and to what past event—the man refers. Did Kirk discuss that decision with his CMO at some point, if not before he gave Bailey his permission then after? “Is that what you want?”

A short silence. 

“No,” the doctor replies at last. “It’s never what I _wanted_.”

Jim stands up. “Then we’ll get you back.”

The man closes his eyes, saying nothing; Jim doesn’t expect him to. Spock is already pulling out the trunk for Jim to command open. They will find a way to win, not simply because the Talrek are in the wrong and Jim isn’t willing to lose a crewman without a good reason. No, now that he has met the missing officer, Jim discovers his instinct is rather adamant about one particular thing: he _needs_ this man on the Enterprise. 

Why, however, is an answer Captain Kirk has yet to figure out.

~~~

“I need break,” Leonard announces as he pushes back from the table he was previously slumped over. Several times, Jim has gotten up to pace around the room but Leonard has remained seated throughout their "crash course in the 'Fleet's finest CMO" (something he jokingly said, but which had failed to change the serious visages of Kirk and Spock). Yet no amount of humor or soothing thoughts can asssuage Leonard's feeling surprisingly like a man under interrogation. If he didn’t know it was necessary, this reliving of the past, he would have found a way to back out of the discussion at the start.

It's difficult.

As things stand, the doctor is worn down but still determined like Jim and Spock to fight the Talrek. Before, he hadn't wanted to interfere, had been taking precautions to keep away from the Enterprise officers. Then the leader made a show of causing Kirk pain and that drove Leonard McCoy from his isolation and made a change of heart quite easy. Leonard believes that any being with an ounce of decency should not blithely hurt another for the sake of a greater good and feel no remorse for his actions. But the Talrekian obviously cares not what harm he is doing to others. Leonard cannot agree with such insensitivity and, therefore, he cannot turn a blind eye to it.

The Captain of the Enterprise watches the doctor groan to his feet and says as a sharp reminder, "You didn't answer the question."

Leonard sneaks a look at the Vulcan transcribing the details of their discussion into Jim's PADD. Spock meets his look with a measuring one, neither prompting the doctor to answer Kirk's question nor persuading Kirk to drop the matter. 

McCoy sighs. "Everything's in the report, Captain. I doubt I can add to it."

"It doesn't explain the lack of an official reprimand of the CMO for his unorthodox actions. You tested the serum on yourself," Jim says to him, speaking of the plague planet where the only survivors were children (until, that is, they entered puberty), "without waiting for confirmation from the ship's computers."

"We didn't have enough time to spare," Leonard argues. Jim hadn't asked about his actions, not after they returned from Miri's world, lucky to be alive; his captain hadn't needed to ask. But Leonard is not talking to the Jim Kirk he is used to, the man who understands him through their shared history and their camaraderie and their mutual understanding of one another.

"What if you had died, Doctor, and the cure had been useless? Mr. Spock doesn't have the medical expertise you do. Your death could have sentenced the rest of us to death as well. You risked us all." 

Damn it, Jim is like a dog worrying a bone. "I saved us all!" he snaps. "Think about _that_ while you're sittin' there judging me! The serum could have been fatal but the disease most assuredly _was_. Someone had to take the risk, and I was the best candidate." Not to mention that he would have never consented to test the serum on Kirk or Rand, and especially not the children.

"You were the oldest of the infected," Spock deduces from what McCoy doesn't say outright, the Vulcan's fingers steepled contemplatively over the PADD rather than typing away on the screen.

"Yes," Leonard agrees. "I would have been the first to succumb to madness. I could have hurt any of you, or forced you to hurt me. Better to be dead," he finishes, swallowing hard. He turns away. "I'm going on that break now." Without a backwards glance, the doctor shuffles tiredly to the balcony overlooking one of numerous palace courtyards. 

Maybe the fresh air will fortify him. Whether Jim or Spock realize it, Leonard is suffering. He wants to rage _you know that answer! you know me!_ but cannot. Bowing his head, he resolutely ignores the chill of the breeze that raises goosebumps along his bare arms as he thinks. The truth is the two men in the room beyond don't know him at all—and that hurts worse than any unsympathetic question could.

No one pursues him, not to fight or to comfort him, and after the longest five minutes of his life, Dr. Leonard McCoy heads back inside, somewhat low in spirit. Yet despite all, he is incapable of turning from his friends when they need him most.

If the doctor is surprised that Kirk and Spock use more cautious wording as their work progresses through the remainder of the night, he says nothing of it.

~~~

"Any word from Mr. Spock or the Captain?" asks Mr. Scott into the comm unit built into the captain's chair he is temporarily occupying. The techs on duty in the transporter room respond in the negative. Montgomery looks around him worriedly. Some of the officers on Bridge return his look with equal measure. Without being told to, Uhura tries again to patch through the channel between the ship and the officers on the surface. The result is the same. No one answers.

The Chief Engineer focuses on the Bridge screen's view of the planet and rubs his forehead, a nervous habit since his early youth. He says to no one in particular, "Oy, what sort o' trouble are they in now?"

Kirk has missed his latest check-in, and Mr. Spock was slated to be beamed aboard the Enterprise for more research (and possibly to plan security measures) if the petition with the Talrek was not concluded in Captain Kirk's favor. Montgomery's stomach is roiling with a queasiness worse than the time he had come under suspicion for the murders of several women. 

Have the Talrek taken more of Enterprise's officers? 

Only a select few individuals are privy to what Kirk and Spock are trying to accomplish; Mr. Scott decides that he could use a second—and informed—opinion. He comms Sickbay. "Dr. M'Benga, you're needed on the Bridge." 

When M'Benga arrives, stepping from the turbolift with obvious diffidence, Montgomery grabs his arm and announces "We need t'talk!" and hauls the man to the Ready Room without further explanation.

M'Benga, startled, wants to know, "What's wrong?"

"It didn't work," says the engineer, aggrieved, who then flings his hands into the air in distress. "All that rootin' around in the computer banks, and it was all for naught! What do those bastards doun there care if we're missin' our CMO?" Mr. Scott bemoans and then shuts up abruptly, flushing. "Sorry, Doctor, I meant..."

"It's all right, Mr. Scott," M'Benga interrupts. "No offense taken. In fact, I'm inclined to agree that we need the rightful CMO returned to the Enterprise. I would rather advance on my own merits."

"Aye," says the man understandingly. "And someday ye will, lad, I'm certain of it."

"Thank you. Now, you were saying?"

Montgomery sighs. "We ought to have had communication from the Captain or Mr. Spock by now. I can only assume the Talrek are obstructing them or us, or they've done something heinous. Though we're monitoring everybody's bio-signals and they seem to be all right."

"Have you sent anyone down yet?"

"No. But if the Captain misses his next check-in, I'm under orders to transport every officer back to the Enterprise."

"Ah, that will definitely interfere with what the Talrek are up to." Then M'Benga folds his arms contemplatively. "Mr. Spock copied me on his report. You're right, there wasn't much information to sway the Council to begin with but it's also all that could be found using both the ship's local database and our latest upgrade of Starfleet's remote mainframe." He breaks off, frowning.

Montgomery crosses his arms, too. "If it's all we have, then it has to be enough," the engineer says. "They asked a question. Surely they know they cannae get an answer if we don't have it _somewhere_ we can find it."

M'Benga ponders, "Are we looking in the wrong place?"

"Or are we lookin' at the right information from the wrong angle?" Mr. Scott asks the doctor in turn.

They stare at one another, neither one more certain than the other. At last Montgomery declares, "I'll be praying Captain Kirk doesn't make that check-in."

"Why?"

"'Cause apparently that blasted answer needs every last one of us scrambling to find it!"

~~~

When the moons are high in the darkened sky, Spock places the PADD to the side and says, “The hour is late. Might I suggest we resume this discussion tomorrow?”

Jim stills, caught in the action of massaging his aching temples. He lowers his hands guiltily. “I’m not tired.”

Spock lifts his eyebrow at his Captain. “Perhaps you are not, Sir, but I believe the doctor, however, is.”

Observing their other companion, whose head is pillowed on his arms, Jim has to agree. 

Then the man, seeming to sense that eyes are fixed upon his person, looks up and blinks sleepily. “What? Oh, sorry.” He huffs out his next breath and tries to appear like he hadn’t been close to dozing on the table. “Was someone sayin’ something?” he asks Kirk and Spock, drawl thick.

“It’s bedtime apparently,” Kirk states, amused.

The doctor rubs the back of his neck and yawns. “We can keep goin’. Just poke me if I start to snore.”

Spock, having made the decision for them all, stands up. “I will check on Lt. Thompkins and Lt. Harris. Do you wish for one of them to remain outside your quarters, Captain?” 

The two security officers who had yet to beam back to the Enterprise before the interference of the Talrek have been posted on guard duty outside Kirk’s chambers, with instructions not to let any Talrekian enter while Kirk, Spock, and the doctor struggled through a long and involved question-and-answer session. 

They must be weary by now, Jim thinks. “Tell them to rest, Spock. The Talrek don’t seem interested in us if we aren't in the Hall.”

Spock nods. “Then I bid you both good evening.” He adds pointedly, “The interim channel between our communicators is still functional.” 

Jim reaches for his own discarded communicator and reaffirms that it is set to the proper channel. The Talrek have banded them from contacting the Enterprise, yet let them keep the ability to comm any of the planet-stranded party. He picks up the extra communicator from his opened trunk and pushes it across the table towards the doctor. “In case you need it,” he offers, not expecting an argument.

The doctor silently clips the device onto his belt. Then the man pushes out of his chair, saying to Spock, “You go on ahead. I want to check Jim over first, then make some medicated tea for his migraine.” 

Jim is slightly surprised that Spock does not insist on staying to oversee the man’s work and to verify that no harm comes to the captain the Vulcan is duty-bound to protect. Could Spock already trust in the doctor that much?

The CMO makes good on his word. He digs through his medikit, the one item Harris had been sent to retrieve earlier as part of the doctor’s obstinate condition when he was ordered to accompany Kirk and Spock to the guest quarters after the confrontation with the Talrek. Jim listens to the man mutter under his breath as he plucks out various equipment and then a small vial. He tells Kirk absently, “I’ve been playin’ around with the herbal treatments the Talrek use on their own people. I have some regular painkillers in my kit, but there’s this kind of leaf they make tea from which is a natural inhibitor and has less side-effects than a dose of the standard stuff we keep stocked in the med bay. I’ve tried it myself to make sure it’s safe. The taste isn’t bad either.”

Jim can only agree, “Okay.” After the doctor has poured water into a cup and left the leaves to steep, he trudges over to Kirk. Saying nothing, Jim looks straight ahead as the doctor waves the tricorder about and presses fingers gently along Jim’s cranium. 

“I noticed that you’ve kept your back to the window, even when you were walking around. You usually aren’t sensitive to light until you are well past the abortive stage of your migraine.”

Jim cuts a sideways glance at him. “You seem to know plenty about me, Doctor.”

“Funny," quips the man, "my job description says I ought to know those such things, Captain.” Then, wryly, “Not that you make my job easy to do.”

He can’t stop his half-smile. “I’m not… fond of being sick.”

“Nobody is. But,” the doctor concedes, “I've learned captains like it even less. Hold still for a second.” He traces his thumb down the side of Kirk’s neck to the edge of the right shoulder muscle. Pressing down, the doctor's fingers coax the muscle to relax. The process is repeated along the back of Kirk’s left shoulder.

The pain in his head notably recedes. Jim releases a long, relieved breath and asks in wonder, “How did you do that?”

The doctor taps the top of his shoulder, smiling lightly. “You, Jim Kirk, are my best case study of the relationship between stress and health. You and I, we’ve done a lot of trial-and-error treatments for your migraines. Some pressure points work for you; some don’t.” He chuckles. “I’m always busy with you around, that’s for damn sure.”

Jim shifts in his chair gingerly, not wanting to prompt the pain to return full-force, and faces the Enterprise’s missing officer. He studies that face for a long minute. “Doctor,” calls Kirk, unsure of what he wants to say to the man. Then, aggravated, he complains, “I can’t keep calling you Doctor. Spock may be okay with it, but you need a name.”

“I have a name, Jim.”

He ignores that. “You need a name,” Jim repeats, thinking, unaware that he is beginning to acquire a look of mild mischief that sends ensigns running for cover. “Hmm… Laurel?”

The doctor rolls his eyes. “I guess that makes you Hardy.”

Damn. So he knows that joke. The wheels in Jim’s brain spin a little faster, until he is almost grinning. “Jekyll!”

“I’d rather be Hyde, thanks. 'N you need to stop while you're ahead.”

“Where’s your sense of humor?”

“It fled the first time we played this game.”

That gives Jim pause. “The first time?”

The other man hesitates before saying, “Never mind.” He makes a show of interest in his tricorder. “The tea ought to be ready…”

It comes to Jim, out of nowhere. He snaps his fingers, surprised and inexplicably pleased to have thought of the perfect nickname. “Bones!”

The name doesn't have the desired effect. Rather than arguing good-naturedly, the doctor goes very still and loses some of the color in his face. “Don’t call me that,” he says in a strangled voice.

"Why not? You said it yourself—your bones are older than mine. And a long time ago, sawbones was a reference to a doctor, back when..."

Sadly, the doctor does not seem piqued about the ‘sawbones’ comment or interested in hearing a lecture in history from Jim. “No,” he insists to Jim.

Disturbed by that vehemence, Jim wants to know, “Why?”

At first it seems that Kirk won’t be given an answer, but then the doctor slumps a little, explains, “A nickname is not an honor to be bestowed upon me, Jim; it's an honor I'm willing to grant. And frankly, I already have one friend I let use that particular name.”

Jim has a funny feeling he should know who that friend is. He argues stubbornly instead, because after all he _did_ think up the name and what’s more he _likes_ it, “Aren’t we friends?”

No hesitation this time. “We were.”

Jim’s hand unconsciously grips the edge of the table. “If we were friends before, we are now.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” the man retorts. “You can’t be my friend. You don’t even know who I am.”

“And whose fault is that?” Kirk snaps back. He instantly knows he has gone too far.

Watching the doctor lower his hands and step aside, Jim almost flinches at the doctor's toneless reply. “Drink the tea. It’ll help ease the pain.” Then he walks away and gathers his medikit.

Without thinking, Jim stops him at the door, planting a hand against it to keep it closed. The doctor doesn't try to open the door.

“I’m sorry,” Kirk says tersely. Fearing that he might be ignored, he takes the man’s arm in a hard grip. “We can’t be divided like this."

The dark-haired man only says, “You’re hurting me.”

Jim releases him with an apology, then says quickly, “I’m not an idiot, Doctor. I heard everything you said tonight—and what you didn’t say. I think—no, I _know_ you are an excellent Starfleet officer.” He adds with sincerity, “And a good man, someone I would call a friend. Let’s not break something we can’t fix over a stupid argument.”

The doctor sighs heavily. “You don’t get it. At this point, Captain—beyond a professional acquaintance—there isn’t anything to break.”

He argues, “When we return to the way things were…”

“It’ll be like old times?” Kirk is asked flatly. Then the doctor mimics, a strange look in his eyes, “ _Don't worry, Bones, everything’s fine now. How about a drink?_ ”

Jim pulls back, bothered by the hint of melancholy about the other man.

The doctor keeps going. “Maybe you think we’ve always been that sort of friends—the kind you can knock down one day then expect forgiveness from the next, like pals playing on a schoolyard. But for me, we weren't... and never could be. It's not that simple when it comes to family."

 _Family._ The strength of the word stuns Kirk. "Did I know this?"

The man shrugs but his blue eyes are sad and serious. "There were times" comes the slow reply, "when I don't think you did." The doctor moves past Kirk and pulls open the door. "It's late, and I'm sure Spock will wake me earlier than I'd like. Try to get some sleep, Jim."

Jim lets him go, loathing both the way his mind is floundering with indecision and the awkwardness now separating Kirk and the doctor. Two hours later, alone, Kirk finds himself unable to follow the doctor's advice. Instead of continuing to lie awake on his bed, the captain returns to the table and picks up the abandoned PADD. Slowly, methodically, he recalls everything they've learned so far about the unnamed man, going through the data over and over again until his eyelids are drooping.

It's only when Jim is drifting fuzzily on the border of sleep that he realizes the doctor had unknowingly revealed who had called him Bones. 

_Don't worry, Bones, everything’s fine now..._

It was me, Jim thinks. It was me all along.

~~~

Leonard wakes up from a short, fitful sleep to sunlight brightening his room and to the realization that it is almost time for the morning meal. Frowning, he sits up and flips open his communicator.

"Captain?" No response. He tries again, turning the dial. "Jim?" Spock's communicator is next, except Leonard receives the same nonresponse. No static, just eerie silence.

Tossing water on his face and after a quick attempt to straighten his wrinkled uniform, McCoy goes back to Kirk's room, feeling a strange sense of déjà-vu. He gives the outer door a token knock and enters. It's empty, save for the items left behind by a messy Jim. He fails to note the set of clothing laid out over a chair, waiting to be worn, and the half-hidden communicator under a towel.

Spock's quarters prove mystifyingly empty also. Leonard spends the next hour searching for somebody from the Enterprise. He finds no one who is not Talrekian, and the Talrek he does ask of the whereabouts of his friends answer his increasingly sharp questions with shrugs and blank stares. A Council member, whom McCoy happens to catch eating with her family in a dining area, tells the doctor that she no longer senses the officers of the Enterprise on the planet; therefore, they must have returned to their ship.

Leonard says nothing in the wake of this unexpected proclamation, merely swallows down his surprise and hurries from the crowded room. Some minutes later, alone in a wide hallway of the palace, he comes to a standstill. There the man admits, reluctantly, to a conclusion that sears him from the inside-out.

They've left him. Again.


	5. A Gentleman, a Scholar, and a McCoy

Jim picks up a coffee cup from the open replicator and cradles it, blowing at curling steam. "We need to go back." When his companion remains silent, he glances over his shoulder, asking sharply, "Don't you agree, Mr. Spock?"

"Yes, Captain. Yet we are ill-prepared to address the Council again.”

Jim sighs, remembering at the last second not to squeeze his coffee cup. “I’m tired of this roundabout game, Spock. The Talrek are cutting out our options, and what progress we have made is still useless." He pivots and marches to the exit of the mess hall. “If only I could _remember!_ ” whispers Jim fiercely, not for the first time.

Spock walks with his captain in silence, Jim without a destination in mind (he’s already been to the Bridge for updates) and Spock simply following wherever the man leads. No one interrupts their steady pace down a long corridor. 

The Vulcan says at length, "Would you accompany me to my quarters, Sir?"

Jim nods, wondering if the request was made with the intention of shielding his frustration from the remainder of the crew. Spock, however, upon entrance to his quarters unerringly strides over to the computer desk and sorts through a stack of PADDS and… books? Jim takes the bound document proffered to him by the Vulcan, hands instinctively mindful of its condition.

It’s thin; too thin, really, but the smell of ink on paper is real. A thesis, maybe? Jim recalls Spock’s report and realizes that he is holding a piece of the evidence Spock found which confirmed that the missing crewman was the CMO of the Enterprise.

Spock asks Kirk to state the author’s name.

Jim frowns, bemused, and turns the object over in his hands. "There isn't one. This is a paper.” He reads the title and flips it open to look over a passage. “Medical?" Someone took the time to make a printed copy of this. Why?

"Interesting," murmurs Spock. Then, more clearly, "Beneath the title is the word _unknown_."

Jim goes back to the cover, stares beneath the title. He shakes his head, stupefied. 

"Dr. M'Benga, who first brought this publication—among others—to my attention, sees the word _anonymous_. You," Spock explains, "cannot find a mention of a name."

"How is that possible, Spock?"

"Precisely. We have yet to consider how the Talrek changed us, Captain. Should one wish to act with a goal identical to the Talrek's, it is more time-effective to alter the way a computer interprets its input than to alter the input itself. I believe the _oduni_ has the power to manipulate sensory perception."

Jim narrows his eyes, thinking. 

Spock adds, “It would be logical, therefore, to assume that the input has not changed.”

“So the doctor’s name is here but we cannot perceive it… like when the doctor said his name but we heard a series of unintelligible sounds." He huffs out a breath. “A censor!”

"It is an internal censor; though we have use of our most basic functions, we cannot utilize them to recognize or identity the doctor as we normally would. One course of action would be to attempt to remove the censor at its source.”

Jim grimaces. “If it were physical, Spock, or a code on a computer I would agree.” The Vulcan clasps his hands behind his back, and Jim gets a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Is this the part where you remind me that Vulcans are highly trained in the mental arts?” he says wryly then glances around, startled because it feels as though he has taken someone else’s words.

Spock blinks. “During the mutual rest period, I achieved a sufficient depth of meditation to allow for exploration of any… anomalies of my psyche.”

Jim is not quite holding his breath, grateful once again that Spock has the unique skill set that he does.

“It is a mental block,” Spock remarks succinctly, “one which can only be created with great skill. I have not attempted to weaken it.”

“It’s dangerous,” Kirk concludes, already knowing where his First Officer is going with this, “but you have decided you are going to try to break through it.”

“Affirmative.”

Jim places the medical publication to the side. “If I had to choose between the potential loss of my best officer and the loss of a stranger, it wouldn’t be much of a choice, Spock. I need you here.”

Somehow, Jim thinks that the estranged crewman wouldn’t begrudge Jim deciding in favor of his First Officer; but Spock and Kirk both know there isn’t a choice to make. A Vulcan is most protective of his mind; Spock would never tolerate an alien influence controlling him, violating him in that way—not if it could be helped.

Spock says nothing of this however, and what he does say surprises Jim: “I am not unappreciative of your words, Captain, but had you stated this before the Council, the Talrek would feel justified in their actions.”

Jim looks away. “The Talrek demand something made impossible to give. I want to know why he’s important, Spock, I truly do, but the longer this goes on, the less priority I can give to his well-being over a crew of four hundred lives.” He says to the Vulcan, “We may have to let him go.”

“I know, Jim,” Spock replies.

They speak no more of that cold truth.

~~~

Wandering aimlessly for an hour clears Leonard's head of cutting thoughts. The doctor strides in the direction of the palace guest quarters thereafter, following a nagging feeling. In the room empty of James Kirk, which Leonard had neglected to notice in detail during his rushed search for the captain, are all the items that Jim had had the night previous. Leonard makes a quick decision, gathering what he can and storing it in a mid-sized trunk, pushing the trunk to the farthest corner under the bed. He does not lock it, knowing that if Jim doesn't come back there will not be a way to open it safely.

As McCoy leaves the room, he tucks the abandoned PADD Spock had used into a back pocket and pulls the tails of his shirt out to cover it. Spock's quarters contain only a phaser and a communicator, both of little use to the man at present. Nevertheless the two devices go with Leonard to be secreted away into his medikit. At last, in his own room Leonard sits down by a small table and powers on the PADD.

It certainly isn't protocol to leave Starfleet-issued equipment unattended on an alien planet, particularly a non-Federation and somewhat hostile planet, Prime Directive notwithstanding. Leonard could smack his forehead for being so silly, for letting his insincerity take a hold of him. _No excuse,_ he thinks sourly. _No excuse at all for that kind of thinkin', McCoy._

Letting loose a deep sigh, the doctor wades through the directories on the PADD seeking the latest entries. For a second he hesitates over a file uploaded from Commander Spock to Captain Kirk, authorization-locked with the second to highest level of security. Knowing this must be the report that Jim referred to repeatedly—the report that summarizes all findings which correspond to the missing CMO—McCoy almost wants to open it. But last night gave him more than his fill of reliving the past. There won't be anything in that report except facts he is already aware of and a long-winded exposition written in Vulcan-speak. McCoy has read plenty of those kinds of reports, enough to know Spock would have left no stone unturned or un-postulated about.

Besides, Leonard is more curious about the notes rapped out so diligently by the First Officer during their discussion. Finding the entry, he is doubly surprised that it has no encryption. "What were you thinkin', Spock?" muses Leonard out loud.

The file opens. It begins easily enough with the date and time and a brief summary of the situation that brings the three Starfleet officers together. Spock writes: _The CMO has agreed to answer our questions without reserve. We will attempt to review several events in which we were all party with the hope that some parts of the recollection prove effective in the restoration of incomplete memory passages. To this extent, there is also a secondary motive to delineate a measure of the response desired of Captain Kirk to resolve current circumstances. Yet given the nature of the Talrek's original inquiry and a lack of pertinent data, the probability is low that we shall be able to answer the question to the full satisfaction of the Council. Regardless, every attempt to succeed must be pursued until our options are exhausted._

Leonard bites his bottom lip, the sudden pang in his chest having nothing to do with physical pain, and skims over a lengthy paragraph. Spock, bless his compartmentalized and quick brain, has quoted most of the conversation from last night verbatim, so Leonard has no need to figure out the change of topics or decipher a cryptic code of shorthand. However, amidst the detailed transcript are oddly scattered phrases—as if Spock had left behind brief impressions of thought... and the mere idea of Spock doing something so whimsical, so _human_ is enough to cause the phrases stand out to Leonard like blots of color in an otherwise grayscale palette.

He reads: _Shows a disturbing sense of selflessness - under adverse conditions, this could prove detrimental to his survival; illogical_ (this appears more than once down the page, much to Leonard's amusement); _noteworthy intuition but, I suspect, low psi scores._

Ah, a Vulcan and his backhanded compliments, thinks Leonard, snorting. He finds farther down (and has to stuff a fist into his mouth over), _hobgoblin? research required._

 _Claims his actions were irresponsible; negative, event classifies as an accident._

When they discussed the Capella IV mission: _...the disposition of Akaar's wife was hostile and belligerent, yet the doctor was able to curb her behavior and earned her respect - fascinating._

_Schedule psych eval for doctor? I do not find the replacement of my brain humorous._

At the very bottom, hidden between footnotes is a cryptic statement: _The ritual is highly private, even among Vulcans, and yet his knowledge of it is of my doing._

Leonard closes his eyes and leans back. "Oh, Spock. If you can't figure out yourself, how can you expect to figure me out?"

~~~

“Capt’n, are ye certain this is wise?” Scotty looks at the Vulcan, who lies on a biobed in an Isolation unit with unfocused eyes, then to his commanding officer. Kirk rubs his forehead and breathes noisily through his nose.

M’Benga is the one who answers from the other side of the biobed. “Mr. Spock has already entered a trance. We couldn’t pull him out of it now if we wanted to, not without causing damage to his mind.”

Mr. Scott makes a noise that could mean _I need a drink._

The wait is agony. At one point Spock’s vitals dip drastically, causing the Captain to pale, M’Benga to shout for Nurse Chapel, and the engineer to clutch at the end of the bed in fright. But the stats resume normal activity as quickly as they had plummeted. M’Benga suggests shakily that it might be an indication of Spock fighting against the mental block; it’s a hope they all cling to.

Christine hovers nearby, alternating between stacking and re-stacking the same equipment on a side table and reminding the personnel peeking around the corner that they aren’t allowed in this area. She, like them, does not know what the four senior officers are up to, but it must be serious business and she guesses that a positive outcome is desperately needed.

M’Benga murmurs over Spock’s brain activity monitor for a long minute before announcing that Spock is rising to a conscious level. Christine cannot help but draw closer to the biobed in anticipation, watching as Captain Kirk calls softly, “Spock? Spock, can you hear me?”

Mr. Spock opens his eyes. He blinks once. Once those dark eyes gain focus, they fix on Kirk.

A silent question is hanging in the air. The nurse wishes she knew what it was.

“Removal of the block was a success, Captain,” states the Vulcan, voice somewhat rough. “I remember.”

“Who is he?” Kirk asks insistently.

What Spock says next is nothing but loud screeching noises in Christine’s ears.

~~~

"You let them go," Leonard McCoy accuses the leader of the Talrekian Council. He has been granted, he is told, a short audience to appease his anxiety—which infuriates Leonard further. "I thought you said leavin' wasn't an option. You even went to the trouble of blocking communication with the Enterprise. So why is it okay now?"

The Talrekian blinks silvery cold eyes. "It was a ruse with a purpose, one which was adequately served, _doctor_. Your companions were given both opportunity and time to speak with you without distraction. Is that not what they desired?" He looks intently at McCoy. "Is that not what you desired also?"

Leonard finds it hard to speak.

"Ah," remarks the Talrekian in understanding. "It was a desire you could not voice or acknowledge, lest you jeopardize your commitment to remain uninvolved. Yet you forget. We see much of what is invisible, even to the one who dreams of it." The tall _oduni_ shifts in a slowly, languidly, the movement careless for all that it is elegant. "If the Enterprise starship requires the return of its captain, then he may go unchallenged. We have not dismissed thought of his duty to his people."

Leonard doesn't dare draw a breath. "Are you saying you'd let him go without a fight?"

"Why should we fight if we are not provoked?"

The doctor puts a hand to his head. "I don't understand you—or any of this. You make a show of wanting your answer to your damnable question, and yet you tell me you don't care if Kirk calls this entire ordeal a charade and walks away. I thought the test was important to the Council! I thought it was a rite that cannot be undone, that it was some much-needed proof or other of the Federation's worthiness."

"Yes."

His frustration explodes. "Yes _what?_ "

"If the test is completed, we gain what we wish to know. If the test is not completed, what do we lose?" comes the practical question.

McCoy swallows. "Nothin'." He, Leonard, however would lose a last chance to regain what he gave up.

The leader of the Council nods ever-so-slightly. "Now you understand why we did not act when the Enterprise officers departed. As long as _you_ remain with us, the rite is intact and will continue on until the final judgment of the Council or until your captain retracts his petition."

"You mean I'm forbidden to leave this planet with the other officers, unless they win me like a prize."

Leonard is caught by the gaze of the _oduni_. "What would be the point of leaving with them now?" queries the Talrekian with a smooth and subtle ease of deflection. "You are no man of the Enterprise, _doctor_." Then, pointedly, "You are a man who never was."

The finality of those words strike Leonard like a blow. "Don't try that psycho-babble on me," he argues back. "I'm as real as you are! I existed for those people, and I still do; otherwise I—and they—wouldn't be here."

"As you say, _doctor_." The _oduni_ rises from his low seating in a puddle of dark robes. He says dismissively, "We will not speak of this again, I am certain, if Captain Kirk does not return."

Despite everything, Leonard cannot find any fault in that reasoning.

~~~

Kirk grasps the back of a chair and fixes his gaze on his First Officer. The senior officers have gathered in Jim's Ready Room. He asks, "Why is the return of the doctor important, Mr. Spock?"

"He is brilliant," replies the Vulcan, "though we easily discerned this during our discussion with him. He is dedicated to his work, competent under extreme pressure, and loyal."

"Which describes most of my officers," Kirk comments grimly.

"Yes," Spock agrees. "Also, the doctor is unafraid to voice his opinion, however... eccentric, particularly in the presence of authority; he disregards certain behavioral protocols; and—" Mr. Spock makes a tiny pauses. "—his bedside manner, for a medical man, is often frightening, despite its effectiveness."

M'Benga, silent, has the expression of a man who just discovered a few missing pieces to a puzzle.

"He sounds fun," Scotty concludes. "He'd be the one who likes the devil's drink o' bourbon, then?"

"I believe the doctor has expressed a preference for the occasional mint julep as well."

Mr. Scott shakes his head in mock sadness; in response, Kirk pinches the bridge of his nose. "Spock, please, what makes the man important?"

"I am not certain I could answer the question in a way that you would understand, Jim. I will say this: he is your friend."

"I know that," Jim admits, thinking of the conversation between himself and the doctor. " _Family._ "

Spock tilts his head in study of Kirk. It is M'Benga speaks up. "Family of the heart can be as strong as family of the blood. If someone steals your family, Sir, you have to get them back."

Jim nods. Then seeing something more in M'Benga's eyes, he asks, "What else?"

"While the loss of the doctor has not rendered the medical personnel incompetent," begins the current CMO uneasily, "many of them... walk delicately, as if they expect to see a ghost at the turn of every corner. The atmosphere is not good for morale, and the longer the ship stays in orbit around the Talrek's planet, the more quickly the environment will deteriorate. It's because they know something is wrong but not _what_ it is." Squaring back his shoulders, M'Benga finishes with "Permission to brief my staff on the situation, Captain."

Jim considers M'Benga's expression before answering, realizing that though M'Benga is uncomfortable confronting him, the young man is prepared to ask again should the request be refused. "Permission granted—on the condition that you remind your doctors and nurses discretion is required for sensitive information."

"No one knows that better than us. Thank you," M'Benga says, sincerely relieved. "I can only hope that this will help in the long run; maybe a collective focus can do what an individual cannot."

Jim starts and stares at M'Benga for too long. "Collective," he repeats to himself softly, absently.

"Captain?" queries Mr. Spock.

The half-grin that breaks across Jim's face is like sunshine coming through clouds. His eyes are alight. "If there's one thing humans are good at, Mr. Spock, it is converging for a cause. We have _mass_."

Scotty begins grinning too, saying "Aye!" The Vulcan looks between the humans, no less disturbed by Kirk's explanation than he was by the lack of knowing it. But he doesn't veto it either.

In the end, Spock asks to be sent ahead of the landing parties while Kirk goes to the Bridge to make a ship-wide announcement.

~~~

The doctor hasn’t been confined to his room, but he can’t stand the knowing looks of the Talrek. Apparently he has become their weekly entertainment. Instead, Leonard paces out to his balcony and back with the PADD clutched in one hand. Looking at it only serves to make him more anxious.

If they don’t come back—

No, they will come back, at least to tell him they are leaving. Jim has a strong conscience, and he wouldn’t fly off without a word to Leonard. 

The man flings the PADD onto his bed in agitation. It bounces and falls over the opposite side to the floor. McCoy uses a fleeting second to hope he hasn't broken it in his display of temper.

“Interesting. Your carelessness with our equipment explains why Medical submits more supply requisitions than any other department on the Enterprise, including Engineering,” interrupts a dry monotone.

McCoy cries “Spock!” rather joyfully before he is even completely turned around. Seeing the Vulcan in the archway between rooms, Leonard immediately tones down his grin for a scowl and points his finger accusingly. “You hobgoblin, you’re supposed to let me know if you’re leavin'!”

“The situation could not be avoided, Doctor McCoy. The Captain missed his second call to the Enterprise, and Engineer Scott followed protocol. However, I apologize for our delay in returning to the palace.” 

Spock doesn’t look particularly apologetic, Leonard thinks. Then Leonard's brain catches up to his emotions. Beneath his ribcage, the doctor’s heart does a strange little jig. “You said McCoy.”

Spock lifts an eyebrow. “Doctor Leonard Horatio McCoy. Is that not your name?”

Diving for his medikit and Spock’s wrist at the same time, Leonard shoves his tricorder under the Vulcan’s nose. It _whirrs_ contentedly.

“I am functional,” states the Vulcan quite gravely.

“Say it again,” Leonard demands, deciding his tricorder is a piece of crap because it says Spock is Spock and not a Talrekian imposter come to confuse him.

“I am functional.”

Leonard resists the urge to smack Spock’s arm. “Not that, you obtuse computer! My name! What’s my name?”

Spock gently detaches Leonard’s tight grip on his wrist and steps back. “I regret to inform you, Doctor McCoy, that I am the only officer—besides yourself—who has an accurate accounting of the events which have transpired since you joined the starship Enterprise as its Chief Medical Officer.”

It suddenly makes sense. “What did you do?” moans the human. “No, don’t tell me!” he adds quickly when Spock opens his mouth to reply. “I’ll sleep better not knowin'. Damn Vulcans and their mind voodoo,” he mutters as he tucks his tricorder back into the medikit. For a moment, he contemplates pulling out the communicator. "Where's Jim?"

“He will arrive shortly."

Leonard seems to be having trouble looking at Spock. He fidgets with the metal clasp of the medikit. "We're in some kind of mess, aren't we?"

"Are you expecting a reprimand?"

He shoots a look at the Vulcan out of the corners of his eyes. "I expect you've rehearsed one."

"Affirmative," confirms Spock automatically. Then, more slowly, "...Perhaps we will discuss it...at another time."

McCoy opens and closes his mouth, then shrugs. "All right—but remember reprimands have expiration dates."

"Pardon?"

"That is, Vulcan reprimands do," clarifies the doctor, feeling more at ease. He pushes away from the table and faces Spock. "You wouldn't be down here if you didn't have a plan. Are we gonna make a quick escape?" Leonard looks around the room, as if Talrekians might burst in to protest this idea.

Spock only says, "Negative. The Council has been informed that Captain Kirk wishes to continue his petition... in an approximate half-hour."

Leonard sputters. "Well what blasted good is that going to do, Spock?!"

Spock blinks. "The Talrek are steeped in tradition and rites, Doctor. The only proper course of action is to respect their demands."

And that, Leonard realizes, is so blasé for Spock, it's a warning. He eyes the Vulcan. "I guess I'm not supposed to ask what you're up to, and tag along like a good little doctor."

"Precisely."

~~~

"This..." begins the Talrekian leader slowly, "is unorthodox."

Kirk stands, proud, amongst a sea of brightly colored uniforms. "I assume that the Talrek adhere to similar principles of justice as we do. We deem that a person affected by any mental aberrations implanted by an _oduni_ —and therefore involved in this petition—retains the right to view the proceedings." He looks about him with amusement. "Of course I couldn't let the _entire_ crew beam down to the planet at one time but we have adapted a rotation schedule that allows a majority of us to remain planet-side." He smiles benignly which, to anyone who knows Kirk, isn't as harmless as it seems. "You do have accommodations for everyone, I hope?"

The Council is dead silent. The _oduni_ 's robes rustle a moment later as he shifts and speaks. "We did not anticipate—"

Jim cuts him off with a wave of a hand. "We can discuss the particulars after this round of petitions." He pauses. "You _are_ prepared to hold a meeting? There are several complainants." Turning to his First Officer, he says, "Medical should make the first formation, Mr. Spock. They have the greatest stake in the outcome."

Spock says, "Acknowledged." 

The Talrek watch in quiet amazement as the Vulcan begins to direct the crowd of Starfleet officers into a semblance of order. A mass of blue-shirted men and women flow to the front of the crowd and create a tight-knit group. None of them look especially friendly. All the while Kirk stands with arms folded. He tips his head in the direction of the Hall, an unspoken reminder.

At last, posture somewhat stiff, the _oduni_ turns and leads the way to the audience Hall. A long, long line of people stream behind him in close attendance, creating an unusual spectacle for any bystanders. The atmosphere in the palace has switched from dignified to momentarily stunned to slightly terrified. The Council members trot after the _oduni_ in obvious discomfort at the sight of the flood of visitors. They do not, it seems, to their great misfortune know what to make of this new tactic.

At Spock's mysterious hint that Leonard remain far removed from the beaming point ("...as a safety precaution," Spock had said, making Leonard nervous), the doctor peeks over a balcony edge at the chaos below. If he had to give a name to what he is feeling, it would be tickled. When he sees Spock say something to Jim, who then turns and looks up in his direction and winks, the feeling becomes a breathless, delighted laugh. He begins to hope after all.


	6. Saving Doctor McCoy

Several minutes are required for the rapid-fire bursts of clamoring voices to die down in the Hall so that the Talrek Council's opening ceremonial speeches can be heard. Even then, a murmuring remains among the vast number of Enterprise officers, one which dips and rises in intervals in accordance with the boring and arrogant quality of the speeches. Leonard, ousted from his favorite darkened corner of the Hall because every nook and cranny is packed with familiar faces, climbs a set of stairs cursing lightly under his breath. He has yet to find an entrance to one of the second-story balconies, though standing on one is not necessary to hear what is occurring. The stones of the palace reverberate with the sounds of the on-going petition, as if the palace itself isn't able to contain the unusual event. What is normally a soft and unhurried air about the Talrek and their daily lives has fled in the wake of general disorganization. 

McCoy brushes along a tapestried wall until he reaches an archway. He peers tentatively through it only to have a Talrekian sweep past him and almost knock him to the floor. "Hey!" Leonard cries in surprise.

The Talrekian—a female—pauses in her rush. Her eyes widen as she recognizes who he is. "It is you!"

He touches a hand to his hair in an absent, uncertain gesture. "Me who?"

" _Doctor_ ," she says with more authority, "this is most unusual. Come—come with me!"

He is summarily dragged from his spot, protests unheeded, and the Talrekian resumes her pace with Leonard in tow. How she bustles so quickly down the narrow corridor, Leonard cannot fathom. He says stiltedly, lacking enough breath to do little more than talk in short bursts, "Where—where are—we goin'? Miss—oh, excuse me." He apologizes quickly after they turn a corner and Leonard side-smacks into another body. 

A young male looks him over, inhaling sharply, before rounding on the female. "You brought _him_ here?"

She narrows her eyes. "Why would I not?"

Leonard isn't about to get in the middle of an obvious pissing contest. He raises his hands. "I'll just go back."

"No, _doctor_ ," his defender snaps out quickly then takes his arm and pulls him between a set of dark curtains. "This is a rite for you. You are welcome to join us."

Leonard forgets his reply the moment he steps onto the balcony crowded with Talrekians. Some of the people stare at him askance; others ignore his presence while a few of the Talrek at the far end of the balcony begin to whisper low and fierce among themselves. The doctor, however, only has eyes for the view below. The sight of the red, blue, and gold uniforms staining the large open area, a normally austere and cold place, strikes him hard in an unexpected way. 

" _Doctor_?" the female Talrekian queries.

Leonard realizes she is staring intently at his face. He lifts his hand to his cheek; his fingers come back wet at the tips. The doctor's face reddens. "Ignore me," he drawls and returns to his observation of the showdown between the Council and the Enterprise crew. 

Silly fools, and Leonard is the silliest of them all.

He wants badly to go down there and stand with them. Spock had said, when McCoy initially tried to follow the Vulcan, quite sincerely, "This is our fight for you, Doctor, not your fight for us."

 _But it is, Spock,_ he thinks. _I'm sorry I can't do more._

The leader of the Council stands. "The session begins. Captain Kirk, we ask you: why is the return of your officer of importance?"

McCoy can only see Jim from behind but that stance is utterly familiar. He is not surprised when Jim puts his back to the Council and calls out to his crew, "Anyone?"

Medical simultaneously raises their hands. It's Dr. M'Benga who breaks from the line of Leonard's staff. "Permission to address the question, Captain."

Kirk, saying nothing, smiles and steps aside for M'Benga.

"Only Captain Kirk may—" interjects the leader.

"Shut up!" yells someone from the back of the Hall.

Kirk coughs into his hand before mildly reminding his errant flock, "Manners." 

Leonard thinks Spock is pretending to be deaf to the grumbling and snickering from a group of red-shirts. Scotty, standing among them, grins at one of his lads with an almost parental pride.

"Oh Lord," mutters McCoy. His female companion wants to know if there is a problem. The doctor looks at her then to the row of seated Council members. "The problem's theirs," he says without an ounce of pity.

M'Benga clears his throat. Leonard refocuses his attention on the man, the nervous tickling in the pit of his stomach increasing further. The railing of the balcony grows slippery beneath his damp palms. When Geoff starts talking, he is drawn forward, straining to catch every word; whether he does so with anticipation or apprehension, he simply cannot tell.

~~~

"I am Doctor M'Benga," begins the doctor, "CMO... _current_ CMO of the starship Enterprise."

"We know who you are not," interrupts the Talrekian leader. "Captain Kirk has the privilege of Speaker."

Yet Kirk stays silent, and M'Benga presses on determinedly. "I claim that privilege temporarily, for I am the voice of my entire department when I say I am appalled by what you have done to us. The brain is a delicate organ, both for life and thought, yet you showed little concern for the health of several hundred beings by playing with their minds on a whim. No matter how you rationalize your actions, they aren't condoned by any law or moral code. What appalls me further is that you feel no _guilt_ for doing so."

"Our actions are not under investigation." The leader says again, voice frozen, "Why is the return of your officer of importance?"

M'Benga crosses his arms and asks, gaze steady upon the Council though he clearly is not addressing them, "Well?"

"He's ours!" comes the fierce united cry of the men and women in a half-circle behind M'Benga.

The leader tucks his hands into his sleeves. "You feel possessive of a man you do not know. Why?"

"We know him," M'Benga clarifies. "We see him out of the corners of our eyes, and we sense him next to us at a patient's bedside. You can keep us from remembering, sir, but you cannot stop us from feeling his loss. He needs to be where he belongs—where he is _missed_ —and that's with us." 

M'Benga glances at Spock and nods. Spock inclines his head in return.

The Vulcan First Officer addresses the Council: "I cannot answer your inquiry on behalf of every Enterprise officer, but such a course would also be unnecessary as we are prepared to let each officer make an individual appeal. I will only offer my personal appeal."

The leader is on the verge of making an undoubtedly pithy reply when another Talrekian overrides him. "You may continue, First Officer Spock. Why is the return of your officer of importance... to you?" 

"The doctor...the human Doctor Leonard McCoy—"

The _oduni_ narrows his eyes at Spock.

"—is both my equal and my opposite in ways which no other person could be. I find he is a necessary component for equilibrium in my command responses—and private reactions. It is he who has helped me understand the difference between who I am and who I should be, that uniqueness is a strength and not a weakness. In addition, through his generosity of spirit and his compassion, I see the greater purpose of an officer's duty at work. I am continuously reminded of what it is the Federation, and thereby Starfleet, seeks to preserve in this galaxy: it is the intrinsically good nature which Doctor McCoy embodies. I beseech you for his return. He is needed aboard the Enterprise—all of these beings standing before you need him—as a teacher, as a healer, and most assuredly as a friend."

If the officers who came down to the planet solely at the request of their captain, not fully understand the reason for the request, had misgivings, those doubts could not hold up under the speech of the First Officer. To hear Mr. Spock speak so candidly, so openly and without shame for one man—one _human_ —touches them all. 

The sense of unity in the room heightens, becomes palpable. The thought _Give him back to us!_ could almost be plucked from the air.

Captain Kirk joins Spock. "You have heard his testimony. His words are our words. Will you return our officer?"

Before any other Council member can speak, the _oduni_ stands up and cries, "His testimony is invalid! He has broken the rite!"

"All he did was push past the obstacle _you_ created to ensure our failure!" roars Kirk in retaliation. 

Spock's "Captain" is a gentle reminder. Kirk takes a deep, shuddering breath before continuing on. He slowly and purposely lets his gaze trail across the seated Council, ignoring the leader altogether. 

"We won't give up. We will keep coming back, in greater numbers than you can imagine, for the doctor. He is one of us, and we would not forsake him, nor leave him to your mercy. We will fight to remember him, too, even if we must damage our minds to do so. What my First Officer has accomplished is only the beginning of this battle."

"Battle?" repeats one of the Council, alarmed.

"See how barbaric the human is?" implores the _oduni_. "He talks of war!"

"You stole my Chief Medical Officer. _That_ is an act of war."

Another Talrekian says, "He stayed with us willingly."

"You stole my right to remember him. It's the same difference to me—and it will be to any other authority in Starfleet or the Federation."

The Talrek look at one another, nodding. "We have heard your words and the testimonies."

"There are more of both to be heard," Kirk says, unrelenting. To give credence to his statement, several officers push to the front of the crowd to stand near the Vulcan and the captain.

The Council rises as one body. "We will convene to deliberate upon your petition."

Whether Kirk would have protested that or not is never to be known; the leader of the Council protests for him. "There is no decision to make! Petition is denied."

The other Talrek turn on the _oduni_. "You are our Speaker but not our Voice," he is told.

"I am _oduni_. I am the power which binds them." He throws his hands wide to indicate the Hall of officers. "I am the power which binds _us!_ "

Scotty whispers to no one in particular, "I think that one's cracked."

Spock answers, "Undoubtedly so, Mr. Scott."

Jim folds his arms and makes his opinion known. "The _oduni_ is clearly biased to our plea. We claim forfeiture of the petition, for how can we have a fair chance at winning if the _oduni_ is incapable of being swayed?"

The leader glares down at Kirk, silver eyes sharp like the edge of a blade, and as if on cue Jim's hands fly to clutch at his temples. Scotty catches the man on one side, Spock on the other, as Jim staggers back under intense pain. 

That is the spark igniting the fire; the Hall fills with the angry protests of Kirk's crew, some officers shoving forward to get at the Talrek while others—notably Security—try to contain the near-riot and warn everyone to remain where they are. It would be a quick and certain rise to pandemonium. Even the Talrekians high up in the balconies are struck by the hive of activity. 

Someone shouts, his voice drowned in dozens, "Let me through! Damn you, _move outta my way!_ " The person pushes to the forefront of the chaos but nowhere near Captain Kirk. He climbs up onto the platform, almost face-to-face with the _oduni_ , and says "I told you not to hurt him!" Then, to the cheers of the Starfleet ensemble and the mutual horror of the Talrek, his fist connects with the Talrekian's nose in a satisfying _crunch_.

The man looks at the other Talrek. "Is this fun for you? It's obviously fun for him!" He gestures at the shocked _oduni_ crumpled in a pile of robes on the floor. "If you think for a second that the Federation is going to offer friendship and protection to a people who see other races as lesser beings, who would treat them like puppets, think again. None of this was about me. It was about your damn pride and, frankly, I pity the lot of you. This—all of this— _it's over_." He walks off the platform, stride unchecked, and into the crowd of officers who part for him with respectful, if uncertain, _sir!_ 's and looks of wonder.

The man, who is the missing crewman, steps up to Kirk's side with a sharp and concerned "Captain?" 

Jim, whose pain had dispersed as soon as the doctor clocked the _oduni_ , answers with admiration. "Doctor."

Engineer Scott adds, "Och, do I wish I could remember yer name, Doctor. That was a fine right hook!"

McCoy's expression switches from grave to sheepish. "Not the smartest thing I've ever done."

"Indeed," interjects the Vulcan before anyone else. "I found it a rather typical display of human overreaction—"

McCoy narrows his eyes at Spock. 

"—despite that it might have had a desired effect upon the Talrek."

The group turns as one to watch the Council, who stare down at the _oduni_ and mutter among themselves. Surprisingly, no one has offered to help the leader to his feet. Eventually a pair of Talrek pick their way down from the platform to the level of the petitioners as nominated representatives of the group. Captain Kirk meets them halfway.

"Violence is not permitted on the palace grounds," states the older of the two Talrekians. "Yet we will concede that it is one of our own who instigated the first act of violence against your person, Captain Kirk. For this, you have our sincerest apology and our regret."

James Kirk is silent. He is a man who knows when to outwait an enemy.

The other Talrekian bows in haste. She says, "I am _oduni_ , Captain Kirk of the Enterprise. I am a Speaker of my people. I say that we are not taught to be ill-wishers or power-seekers. It is not our way." The female touches her forehead in a strange gesture before bowing to Kirk again. "I also apologize, as _oduni_."

Scotty stage-whispers to McCoy, "Apparently they just realized even the mightiest of races can have a bad bunch or two."

McCoy snorts. Spock silences both men by simply leveling a stare at them.

"I accept," Kirk says at last, "but I'm more interested in _how_ you plan to correct such grievances."

"We understand, Captain Kirk. This _oduni_ will dissolve the mental bond over your minds. Please, we ask for patience. She is not as... experienced as the other _oduni_." He turns and says something to the female. She replies in an ancient Talrekian language, the sounds sibilant to human ears. He explains to Kirk, "We need assistance." Lifting his robed arm, he points at McCoy. "Look at this _doctor_. See his form in your mind. If all present see him, it will aid her in the return of his name to you."

McCoy is beginning to go red. Spock catches his arm and propels him forward, to which the doctor barely has time to protest, only saying "Spock!"

"Stand upon the platform, Doctor; otherwise there are several lieutenants which will experience difficulty in the visualization."

McCoy doesn't let the Vulcan move away. "Then you're staying up here with me, Mr. Spock."

Spock lifts an eyebrow in response but arranges his stance next to the doctor without argument. McCoy crosses his arms and resolutely fixes his eyes on the floor, perhaps studying the patterns carved into the stones. He looks uncomfortable.

The Talrekian next to Jim raises his hands with palms facing outward and commands, "See him!"

Eerie silence falls upon the Hall in the next heartbeat, a feeling of deep concentration, of bated breath. It stretches and stretches, like a band pulling tight between two forces and—

_Snap._

It's almost audible, the release of tension and breaking of the spell. What is audible are the mutters of surprise, the sharp inhalations, and the faint echoes of the name "Doctor McCoy!" given voice.

McCoy nudges Spock urgently. "Can I get down now?"

Spock looks to Kirk, and Leonard follows his gaze. Jim is turned away, facing the _oduni_. His expression is closed like his eyes. Seconds later, his shoulders straighten and he says, clearly enough to be heard, "Thank you."

At last Jim turns and looks at Leonard, just looks at him for a long moment. He murmurs "Bones" in a way that lets Leonard know it'll all be okay, that it's his friend who sees him. Leonard feels a pang he cannot quite explain. 

"Let's go home," Jim says, flipping open his communicator and calling for a beam-out of the Enterprise officers in large groups. To the Talrek: "We will leave your world. Once the story of what happened here is known, I cannot guarantee the Federation will contact you again."

"We understand," the Council of the Talrek say in unison. 

It's unclear how they feel about this news. Kirk doesn't seem to want to find out either.

Leonard scampers down from the platform not bothering to wait for Spock. When he is level with a majority of the crowd again, he glances to the Talrek's Council, acknowledging in his heart the formidable force that they are. His eyes then skip up to a particular second story balcony. One of the Talrekians, the female, nods to the doctor. Something relaxes within McCoy, uncoils. While the final traces of a short-lived animosity toward the Talrek fade, he nonetheless hopes that he never has cause to meet them again.

It takes time for everyone to get back to the ship. Leonard tells Spock stubbornly that he's been this long on the planet and another hour's wait won't make a difference. The Vulcan acquiesces without an argument—which surprises Leonard slightly—but remains stuck to his side like a burr, albeit a solicitous burr that lets him add samples of the Talrek's medicinal herbs with the remaining 'Fleet equipment to be sent to the ship. Perhaps Kirk gave Spock the order to make sure Leonard returns to the Enterprise; perhaps Spock is simply uneasy and untrusting around the Talrek who occasionally linger in various corners of the palace walkways and courtyards, watching McCoy curiously until the last moment possible, and he feels compelled to stay near Leonard. Whatever the reason, Leonard finds that he is grateful for the comfort of his Vulcan shadow.

He forgets to acknowledge the initial inkling of panic that normally skitters up and down his spine in warning when he feels the familiar tingling of the transporter effect. Rather, Leonard McCoy sucks in his first breath of the ship's recycled air in weeks and steps down from the transporter with a smile and relief in his eyes. 

Kirk is already onboard, having beamed up with Scotty and several engineers, every one of them feeling the call of the Lady Enterprise and anxious to have the feel of the ship around them again. Scotty had nodded to Leonard before following Jim to the designated beaming point in the Hall, murmuring not only jokingly "Ye didn't think ye could get away from us so easily, did ye, Doctor?" (which had instantly put Leonard at ease) but immediately after, more seriously, "There's a bottle and two glasses waitin' in my office when you're ready."

Spock turns to Leonard, and the doctor waits for the Vulcan to say whatever is on his mind but then the door to transporter room opens, admitting one small, lovely woman. Mr. Spock acknowledges her with a somber "Lt. Uhura" and instead folds his arms behind his back, moving away.

Uhura and Leonard watch him go, bemused. Without thinking, Leonard lays an arm across Uhura's shoulders, and she looks up at him, her dark eyes considering. "I was on the Bridge monitoring the channels, waiting for the Captain's orders to come through and thinking that everything would be so much easier if we had never come to this planet—when out-of-the-blue you were on my mind. It was like someone had let light into a dark room. I knew then we had succeeded." She leans into him, asking, "Could you imagine if we hadn't?"

He rubs a hand against the skin of her arm where he can feel goosebumps. He doesn't tell her that he could imagine it, quite easily, and how frightened that makes him. The silence they share is one of understanding, comfort, and thanks to the Powers That Be for this second chance. She walks with Leonard to his quarters, telling him quietly that he needs to visit the Bridge soon, for all their sakes. When she tries to apologize for forgetting him, Leonard shushes her quickly, saying, "I'll make you a deal: I'll only feel as much guilt for this catastrophe as you do."

Her mouth quirks. "I suppose I should begin forgiving myself right away then."

"That's a grand idea, darlin'."

She kisses his cheek, and they part ways on the deck of the officers' quarters. He spends the next few minutes being stopped in the corridor by people; eventually he escapes into his room for a moment of peace.

~~~

Peace and solitude can only be tolerated for so long, especially when one is a Chief Medical Officer. After a call from Sickbay, McCoy heads out to meet his fate, so to speak. He pauses uncertainly just inside the medical bay entrance then berates himself sheepishly; yet Leonard feels even more like a fool when a pair of nurses passes him by with barely a glance in his direction and no halt to their conversation. It becomes quickly apparent he is being ignored.

_Get a hold of yourself, McCoy._

Taking the quickest route to his office, he doesn't quite hurry inside and shut the door. Alone, but somewhat unhappy that he is alone, Leonard jerks out the chair behind his desk and plops into it with a gusty sigh. The next five minutes are spent idly drumming his fingers while he looks through report after report centered neatly on his desk to draw his attention. Christine's work, he knows. She would anticipate his immediate request to overlook the medbay activities in his absence.

Familiar work isn't able to redirect a mind which is turning in unhappy circles. Leonard's hand absently seeks the bottom drawer of his desk. Except when he pulls the drawer open and reaches for the object carefully stored in the back, he finds nothing. A slow, careful search of his desk gives no result. It's gone, but who would have wanted it? he muses. And who would have been in here besides M'Benga...?

On his feet again, Leonard strides for the door with a purpose. Nothing else could spur him out of a hiding spot like the loss of something precious. That picture of his daughter, the only picture he has in his possession, is more than precious; it's priceless. He'll face down Klingons to get it back—least of all a staff that seems more interested in their daily gossip than the return of CMO McCoy.

He exits the office at the same time Nurse Chapel and Dr. M'Benga are coming around a corner. They stop short upon seeing him and share an indecipherable look between themselves.

Tucking away his reservations, Leonard calls, "Dr. M'Benga! By any chance—"

"Hello, Doctor," Christine greets him smoothly. "We were looking for you. Come with us, please." She doesn't wait for his answer but rather twines her arm through his and gives it an encouraging tug.

M'Benga adds, "There, of course, needs be a debriefing among the staff." He nods judiciously at Chapel and pivots, heading in the direction of the mid-sized lounge, sometimes informal conference room on the opposite end of Sickbay.

Being hustled by his head nurse like a stubborn puppy on a leash is embarrassing beyond compare. He tells Christine several times that he _is_ capable of walking without aid. She ignores him. 

"Geoff," McCoy argues, "we don't need this meetin' right now. Wait until we outta orbit at least! People are still jumpier than a cat guarding its tail around a rockin' chair."

M'Benga pauses, letting two young medical techs cross the hallway first. He cuts his eyes at Leonard. "Where did you get that impression, Doctor McCoy? I would say everyone is behaving exceptionally well."

Leonard purses his lips, not pleased to have his bluff called. "You're right, and why, exactly, do I deserve the silent treatment? I'm in the doghouse or something?" His brows come down as his temper flares. "And what's happened to the photograph of Joanna, Geoff?"

M'Benga is caught by surprise. He says "Oh, I think Mr. Spock has it" apologetically.

Why in the world would Spock want Leonard's picture? Certainly not as a sentimental keepsake! The doctor decides that after this staff meeting—which obviously no one is going to let him get away from—he needs to pay a direct visit to that pointy-eared hobgoblin. 

"Fine," he almost snaps, but catches himself. Then, more civilized, " _Fine._ Let's get this over with. I've got a Vulcan to find." 

Christine lets him go without a fuss and he marches to the front of their little group, leading the way to the lounge. Behind him, he thinks he can hear the nurse trying to cover up an amused snicker. 

Insubordinate—the lot of them! Grumbling under his breath, the doctor barely waits for the door to slide open and slips into the room. He is prepared to meet several curious stares, he is even prepared to face down disinterest or, God forbid, anger.

What greets Leonard is a loud smattering of cries: "Welcome back!"

The majority of Medical is crammed into the lounge, all of them beaming ear-to-ear; some clapping and others already reaching out for Leonard. He opens his mouth and nothing comes out. Christine whispers in his ear from behind, "It's good to have you back, Leonard." Her discreet shove to the middle of his back propels him into the nearest nurse with wide-open arms ready to hug him.

And she does, sniffling into his shoulder, and then passes him along to the next person. 

The fourth person in, Leonard gets over his shock and his return hugs are more enthusiastic, along with his thanks and his repeated request of "Now, darlin', no tears. Everything's a'right."

He pats people's backs and they pat his, or kiss his cheek, or shake his hand with zeal, or tell him he's not allowed to leave Sickbay anymore. When he has finally circled back to Christine and M'Benga, the mood is joyful and has calmed down to good-natured ribbing and calls for cake.

"Cake?" Leonard mouths silently at Chapel.

"What's a party without a cake, Doctor McCoy?"

He can't argue with that. Reeling her in, he hugs her hard and whispers against her coiled blonde hair, "Thank you."

She just nods. If they both look close to crying, neither mentions it to the other. M'Benga breaks into the emotional reunion by dropping a heavy hand to Leonard's shoulder. 

"As much as I liked the title of CMO," he says, "I think I can wait a little longer for it."

McCoy lifts an eyebrow. "How long?" he asks, amused.

Geoff grins. "Until my next ship transfer, I imagine. You can keep Kirk all to yourself."

Leonard rolls his eyes but his mouth is stretching in a wide smile. "I'm not sure if that comforts or scares me."

He hasn't laughed in a long while but, oh, how easy it is to share laughter with the people about him.

~~~

On McCoy's way to Spock's quarters, he feels the power of the Enterprise going into warp and, distracted, runs into an equally preoccupied Kirk. They say nothing to one another, not until they step into an empty turbolift together.

Jim asks him, "Where are you headed, Bones?" like it's any other dull day of duty aboard the starship.

"Spock's," Leonard answers, keeping his eyes on the lift console. "He's got something of mine."

"Oh."

Well, so much for small talk. 

Leonard makes a decision and commands the turbolift to halt. He turns to Kirk. "There's little chance we're going to forget this ever happened, Captain. I told you that I knew I had a dressin' down coming and I'd rather we deal with it now than later. So... go on, then."

Jim's expression is strange. "You want me to yell at you, Doctor?"

"If yelling is how you plan to go about, I guess so." Leonard adds seriously, "I'm smart enough to know when I've been an idiot. You're completely in the right here, Jim. You can even take me off duty and I won't say one word of complaint against it."

"We essentially spent a week trying to get you _returned to duty._ It would be petty of me to punish you in that way." Then, "Bones..." 

Leonard looks at his longtime friend, really looks, and sees what it is that the man can't put into words. "Damn it, Jim. There's nothin' for you to feel bad about! Saints preserve me, I ought to _thank you._ " With that, he tugs Jim into a quick hug and says, drawl thick, "Thanks for everything—returning for me and, well, fighting with those bastards like the hard-headed idiot that you are."

Jim pulls back. "Excuse me? _Idiot?_ I don't think it's my brain the Talrek scrambled, Bones."

Leonard huffs out a laugh. "You're welcome."

"I didn't thank you yet."

"But you will," he says knowingly.

Jim laughs, too, and tells the turbolift to resume its descent. He exits the lift when Leonard does, and Leonard remarks, "This isn't the way to the mess hall, Captain."

Kirk squeezes his shoulder. "We'll invite Spock to dinner with us."

Leonard shakes his head, not surprised that Jim is already fitting him neatly back into their routine. He is somewhat taken aback though when Jim halts him from activating the comm buzzer to Spock's quarters.

"Bones," begins the man, "what you said down there... You _are_ important to me, as family. I'm sorry I've never told you, that you thought..."

Leonard interrupts him, touched. "Well, now you have. This is—I guess this is a wake-up call for all of us. The things we don't say—maybe we won't forget them so easily next time."

"No," agrees Jim, eyes darkening with sincerity, "I won't forget again."

Leonard presses the buzzer. "Let us in, Spock, or Jim and I'll start logic-defying melodrama on your doorstep."

The door opens rather quickly. "I am not precisely familiar with the term 'melodrama' but I assume it refers to abundant emotionalism. Such behavior I would readily expect of you, Doctor."

McCoy snorts, moving past the Vulcan and into the center of the room. "Beware, hobgoblin, I'm going to hug you when you least expect it. Maybe in front of your science officers. Maybe on the Bridge while Jim's onscreen talking to Admiral Komack." Leonard cackles lowly. "Maybe the next time your mama visits."

The tips of Spock's ears are dark green. "It is against regulation to threaten a superior officer."

"By superior, I assume you're referrin' to your _delusion_ of superiority. Everybody knows—"

Behind them, Jim makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "All right," he says loudly, "that's enough. I don't know why I thought you two might be ill-at-ease with each other."

"Whyever would that cross your mind, Jim?" McCoy says, bouncing once on the balls of his feet. "Spock _likes_ me. He said so himself in front of one-third of the crew!"

"I was attempting to persuade the Council—"

"You like me," Leonard states firmly. "No takesies backsies."

The Vulcan's eyebrows angle sharply downwards. "I believe your speech impediment is worsening, Doctor. Might I recommend..."

At that point Jim starts laughing in earnest, Leonard not far behind.

 

_-Fini_


End file.
